


And No Birds Sing

by LastShadowPuppet



Category: Robin Hood (BBC 2006)
Genre: Dark, Dark!Guy, F/M, Intense Romance, Loads of references from works of fiction and mythology, Medieval Medicine, Passionate!Guy, Soulmates, Tortured!Guy, angsty, medieval politics, timetravel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-15
Updated: 2016-08-27
Packaged: 2018-04-20 10:59:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 33,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4784858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LastShadowPuppet/pseuds/LastShadowPuppet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And then she could no longer hear the Birds sing- Guy/OC. Timetravel-Fic. AU from first season</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part I

_"About as subtle as an earthquake, I know My mistakes were made for you"- My Mistakes Were Made For You, The Last Shadow Puppets_

* * *

_London, 1939_

It was funny how in a moment your life could be changed forever. In the blink of an eye what you knew before would cease to exist completely and unexpected change would befall you- _bereave you_. And the worst was that once this change came, it was irrevocable. You could never return to what you knew before.

She would always remember the moment her life would be forever changed. Many autumns later when she was all rocking chair and wrinkly skin and weary eyes looking off into the horizon, she would reflect and reach the conclusion that perhaps her entire life had been devoted to that moment- that everything that came before in her life- _the passing of her father, her mother's bitterness, her uncle's devotion_ \- had only existed as preparation for that single moment. And with the passing of summers in her life, her mind would grow less and less sharp, but she would always remember that moment when her life changed.

It had been- to all intents and purposes- a conventional morning. She had been in the large drawing room of her uncle's manor, with her youngest brother perched on her lap and, surrounded by oak shelves that stretched from floor to ceiling, she had read Bilbo Baggins's confrontation with Smaug to him. The radio was playing the newest jazz song from America, but the brassy melody played by the saxophone was so low that the whistling from the sparrow nest just outside the window overtoned it.

She was just about to turn the page after doing her best impression of Smaug's snarl of 'Burglar' and passing her fingers tenderly through the golden hair of her sibling when her uncle came into the room. It wasn't his entry that startled her- it was more the nature of it. She had always known her uncle as a stern and composed man who exuded authority and wisdom from his grey-haired and tall frame. However this morning, her uncle stormed into the drawing room and his eyes were flashing wild and there was none of that dignified composure that she had always known of him. He turned the radio louder and instead of the jaunty melody from the American Jazz song that had been playing previously, she suddenly heard their Prime Minister's grave voice: "... consequently this country is at war with Germany."

And then she could no longer hear the birds singing.

* * *

Historians have labelled the Second World War as a Total War and have in turn defined that label as 'a war which encompasses an entire nation'. The bespacled and balding men would clarify that the First as well as the Second World War made great demands on the country's economy and people, demanding the full use of the country's financial resources for the four to six years each of them laste, where even civilians fought in the war and had their lives transformed.

She would read those words years later with her wrinkly fingers passing over the black ink on white paper. She'd always loved words and reading and writing with her entire heart; her devotion to books and stories since an early age had been passed on to her from her late father and what had endeared her to her stoic uncle. But reading that simplification of that period of her life would seize her heart with causticness and she would snarl, flinging the book away from her with hatred and resentment filling her heart. And for the first time in 63 years she would realise the destructive power of simplification that words had.

Because no words would ever be able to justly explain how her life changed after Neville Chamberlain's declaration of war.

No amount of words would ever be able to accurately describe the worry she'd felt when she'd seen her uncle positively collapse into his chair with a vacant expression after the Prime Minister's announcement, words couldn't explain the fear she'd felt in her heart when she had to watch her oldest brother drive off, wind tousling his fair hair and him standing proudly in his green uniform.

Words couldn't describe the numbness that had gripped her when she held her weeping mother, the same woman who'd been indifferent to her since she had been five years old after her father's passing, who mourned the loss of her favourite child, having received a phone call that her son had fallen in battle.

Words couldn't describe the despair she'd felt when she ushered her youngest brother on the train, him only five years old, which would take him to the countryside and hopefully away from this damned war.

No words could ever replicate the tightening of her heart when he'd held onto her waist and softly muttered: "Promise me you'll come back for me" and she nodded her head.

And no words could describe the transformation she had undergone after that morning. Her mother and her aunt had always criticized her for having her head in the clouds and her nose in a book, which was a true waste of her beauty according to the older women.

There was no time for her books and her stories, for Peter Pan and Alice and The Mad Hatter, for fantastic tales of war and knights in Shining Armour, for stories of courtship and courtly, romantic love, for heroes and villains and fair maidens and ballads. There was no time for any of that during the War.

But one morning when she was in the bathroom and she looked into the looking glass- it was two weeks after her brother's burial- and realised that it wasn't only her childish fancies for stories that she had discarded during this time. Whereas before her brown eyes had always shined with the innocent and gay light of youth, they seemed harder now and much too old for her youthful, sixteen year old face. She was encompassed in the war- completely: not only her body as she trained and later worked as a nurse in the soldier hospital in West London, but also her soul.

No words would be able to describe how she had to grow up much too soon and much too abruptly at fifteen years old.

* * *

_London, 1942_

"Come, my dear, just one more spoon," she coaxed in her soft voice to the grey-haired man before her. He in turn, was shaking his head vehemently with a touch of childish petulance while tightening his lips. She sighed when he spat: "You already said that one spoon ago. Stop trying to make me eat." He was glowering at her and she, in defeat, lowered the spoon back to the still-full bowl of soup. Figuring she would only incense her uncle if she continued to insist and would not get him to eat anymore, she rose from her chair by his bedside and proceeded to make to leave.

She stopped with her hand on the handle of the door when she heard him demand: "And tell Julia to come up to see me. It's Wednesday and she will be sorely disappointed if we don't read on in 'Great Expectations'."

Julia swallowed heavily before giving a sharp nod of her head and pressing down the door handle, she left the room. A buxom and matronly woman was standing oustide the door with her kind, warm face tightened with worry. Julia gave her a small and sad smile before she whispered: "I managed to make him eat half a bowl. We will try for more later, Ms. Dixon." The woman in question gave her a slow and sad nod of her head before she took the bowl from her hands and they proceeded to go downstairs to the kitchen.

While Ms. Dixon proceeded to busy herself finishing the preparations for lunch, Julia reflected on her uncle's sickness. And despite being in the medical profession and having gathered much knowledge on it in the past three years she had worked beside physicians, she couldn't help but blame the war for her uncle's sickness of the mind. The man she remembered as so authorative and proper had been on a steady decline since that morning he'd collapsed on the chair. And now he was only a shadow of himself, childlike in his petulance and the innocent questions he'd ask Julia.

"Has my mother rosen," she asked after taking a sip of water. Julia knew the answer before she'd asked in truth and so it came to her as no surprise when the older woman nodded her head 'no'. A sigh was the only response that came from her and she rose, informing Ms. Dixon that she would be out, running some errands in town. As she fastened her overcoat and her hat, the woman eyed Julia worriedly and whispered: "Be careful, Ms. Julia."

The streets were deserted and the London that Julia grew up in was diametrically opposed to the vision of bereavement currently before her eyes. In her childhood memories, the streets were always frequented with vendors, elegant women, playing children, and suited men on their way to work. The air around her would be saturated with the sound of honking from cars, the unintelligible noise of various conversations around her and the smell of cooking food. You would walk on the pavement and be stopped periodically by vendors trying to lure you into their shops. And to her left and right, the streets were lined with cobblestone houses that all looked the same.

And now, there was an unnatural stillness around her.

She wasn't the only one to walk the streets, there were others but whereas before their steps had been languid as they enjoyed their outing, the passerbys now positively stormed past her in their hurry to get back home in safety. A few shops were open but the vendors no longer stood out in the street, gayfully calling out to random people but were inside. And a lot of the shops were barricaded and closed. And the air around her was still and frosty.

She was currently selecting some chamomile to cook her uncle tea later when the stillness of the air was broken by a loud and repetitive noise that echoed in the cobblestone street. The blossoms fell from her hand. Her spine straightened.

And she took off running.

She did not know where to go.

She had never been here when an alarm sounded and she didn't know where the closest bunker was. But she ran and the few people that were outside with her were running in the same direction as her. She didn't know if they knew where to go either. Or if they were just running like her- just for the sake of it. Just because they had learned that when the alarm sounded you start to run.

She tripped over an overturned stone on the floor and landed roughly on her knees. She gritted her teeth against the stinging originating from her knees and her mind screamed at her in tune with the repetitive wail of the alarm that she needed to continue running. She needed to get to safety.

Just as she was about to rise, she felt someone taking her arms and hauling her up. She looked up at the source of assistance and saw an older woman with startling green eyes and a wild, disheveled mane of hair pulling her up and towards the right-hand pavement. And in an accented voice the woman told her: "Come, lass. My shop is just here we can get to safety there." And Julia was so winded because of the fall and the unexpected help from this stranger that she offered little resistance to the woman's pulling and before she could gather another thought she was inside a small and stuffy shop whilst her helper was bolting the door shut.

She became aware that she was locked in an unknown shop with an unknown woman and she became very wary and proceeded to take a step back. The woman whirled around as soon as she was done with the door, her black hair wildly twirling around her, and gave Julia a gentle smile: "There. Now we just wait until they announce that it's safe to go back out again." The woman then proceeded to stalk past her and Julia blinked her eyes at the strangeness of the woman. Now that the woman was no longer at the door, Julia turned around and for the first time took in the rest of the shop.

Had she been three years younger and had the war never occured, she would be starry-eyed with wonder. And even despite everything that happened to her, Julia could not help but to feel a tendril of enchantment as she looked walked deeper into the shop and her eyes took in the dreamcatchers around her which hung from every inch of the ceiling. It was like she was in a sea of those delicate structures of feathers and thin yarn. She raised her hand, allowing the tips of her fingers to breathe past a particularly beautiful one made of ivory white yarn with a white feather. She took in the other items which were on display and though they were all different, one thing they had in common were that they were all exotic and peculiar and she'd only read about some in books and had never ever seen one in real life before. And her brown eyes took them in greedily. The shop was peculiar and strange just like its owner but it was equally as wonderful by being so.

Julia suddenly stopped and was standing before a large mirror which hung from the wooden wall. The glass was clear and she could see her full tiny figure clearly in it but it was the frame which drew her eyes. It was bronze and looked ancient and was carved with several figures. And it was almost too much input for her, so her eyes focused on the carvings at the top of the frame. And it showed three women, working with yarn. One was unrolling it, while the other sat at a spinning wheel, processing it. And the third was cutting the wire. And it reminded her of something. Some story that her uncle had told her.

Her mind was so preoccupied with trying to recall what the figures reminded her off that she didn't see the woman who had saved her approaching her from behind in the reflection. She only took note of the woman's arrival too late. Her spine straightened as she saw the woman's determined expression and just as she was about to whirl around, she felt someone pushing her. She lost balance and fell forward and she was bracing herself for the painful impact with the mirror's surface.

But it never came.

She kept falling and falling.

And just like her childhood heroine, Julia fell through the looking glass.


	2. Part II

_"And in the back room of a bad dream she came And whisked me away, enthused"- My Mistakes Were Made For You, The Last Shadow Puppets_

* * *

_He arrived home to find his eight-year-old niece sitting at the doorstep at the front entrance to the manor._

_That wasn't an unusual sight as she would often search out the front doorstep with a book and spend the hours before dinner reading in another book from his collection._

_But there was no book before her and his niece's lovely face was twisted into a sulk. He came to a stop before the steps and as soon as she caught sight of his walking stick, she looked up. He furrowed his brow as he took in her bloodshot brown eyes and asked her what the matter was since she had clearly been crying._

_He was aware that at a young age it was not unusual for children to cry when they felt sad- and his niece had more than precedent to be sad. But despite what had befallen her at such a young age, he'd only seen young Julia crying once before- it had been during one of his evening talks with his widowed sister-in-law when she'd declared that William was her favourite as 'it's the eldest a mother always thinks of'. And at that moment he'd looked up to find his youngest niece standing at the doorway to the dining room, her large nightgown engulfing her small frame and tears streaming silently down her face._

_He asked her what the matter was and she mumbled- and at the sight of her sad face he couldn't even bring himself to correct her for mumbling- that today her teacher had announced who would play what role in the christmas play her school was staging._

_It was a production from Baum's 'The Wizard of Oz'. "I'm playing the Wicked Witch of The West," she mumbled, drawing her knees to her and lowering her head as if she was confessing doing something wrong. He usually didn't have patience for such banal and childish matters, but, and he would never say it out loud- it didn't really need saying- he adored his niece; her sharp mind and thirst of knowledge had endeared the six-year-old to him when she'd first come to live with him after his brother's death, and he listened patiently to her complaints._

_"I wanted to be Dorothy or The Good Witch," she mumbled and afterwards swallowed as she repressed the urge to cry. "Everyone will tease me, because I'm the evil witch," she mourned._

_And he realised something about his niece._

_Despite being exceedingly intelligent for her age she had that narrowdness of mind that made even the smartest of people ignorant. She only saw things black and white, there was no in between for her. He took a deep breath and disregarding his business suit, he proceeded to sit down at the step beneath hers. He looked down at his niece and stated in a grave voice: "Julia, I will teach you a lesson now and you have to promise me you will never forget it."_

_Her brown eyes were wide- surprise at her uncle's uncharacteristic behaviour- and she wordlessly nodded her head, her eyes already curious at the wisdom he would pass on to her._

_He urged her: "Julia..." And she whispered: "I promise, uncle."_

_And her eyes were shining with childish innocence and her voice was clear with truthfulness at her promise and then he leaned down to her as if telling her a great secret: "There is nothing in this world that is entirely good or entirely bad." He nodded his head as if reinforcing his words. And her eyes lightened with realisation._

_He gave her a sad smile and whispered: "And that is the greatest thing I can hope to teach you."_

* * *

 She woke up to darkness.

The ground beneath her was moist and as her fingers flexed, she grabbed leaves and realised that she was on a bed of them. Slowly, as her head was pounding, she sat up and looked around her. Everything was still too dark for her to make out the scenery around her, but the air smelled of moist grass and dewy leaves and she figured that judging from the ground beneath her she had to be in some sort of forest.

She was utterly confused. Because the last thing she remembered was walking through the cobblestone streets of London and then wading through a sea of dreamcatchers and then falling and here she was: In a dark, cold night in the middle of nothingness.

Her urge was to get up and walk- run- as fast as she could to escape this blackness. Sitting here, not knowing where she was made her feel like the helpless little girl, she no longer was. And she hated feeling like that, regressing back to that position. She wanted to get up and run. But what would that have brought her? She didn't know where she was and in the darkness there was no means for her to navigate herself out of the forest and her situation. The only thing she would achieve would be to get deeper and deeper into the dense growth.

And then she would truly be lost, if she wasn't so already.

Giving a low sigh of defeat, she laid back down on the moist leaves and drew her knees to her chest. And she waited. And for the first time in three years she started to pray. The prayers were said in her head and they were haphazard at best. Because she had not prayed since that announcement had come over the radio. She'd no longer known who to pray to. She figured that surely god had turned his back on them at this time. And it was only because her mother had been so religious and she had grown up in a strict religious education that she still knew how to chant the old prayers. And eventually night turned into day and when she cracked open her eyes it was no longer dark.

She sat up and looked at the clearing which had been bathed in night the last time she had looked at it, but now was illuminated with a green light as the sun shone down upon her through the canopy.

She stood up and her bones ached and she proceeded to make her way through the forest. And despite knowing that she still had no sense of orientation despite it being day and light, she continued walking. Because she knew she would eventually have to. She would achieve nothing lying in that clearing like a foetus, reciting prayers that had been empty for her since a long time.

Still she could not help but feel despair as she made her way through the forest and everything was the same, every tree appeared just like the previous one to her and she almost had the feeling that despite walking she was not moving and making her way- that she was staying in the same place despite her efforts.

And then suddenly, behind a thick wall of shrubberies she saw light that wasn't green in its tinge and her heart seized and she quickened her step and after making her way through the wall shrubs, she was standing at the edge of the forest overlooking a wide field and rolling hills at the northern horizons.

And that little voice in her mind that was still fifteen year old and young and innocent and so incredibly idealistic whispered that this must be what the Shire looked like.

She almost feel to her knees in relief that she had escaped the forest. But she knew better than to chant her triumph before the right time. Because eventhough she was now out of the oppressive growth of the forest, she still found herself in an unknown and uncivilised landscape that she had never before seen in her life. So she proceeded to make her way and her feet carried her due true north. And as she breathed in, she realised that the air around her was so light and free.

She'd lived in London her entire life, but not even when her uncle had taken them to the countryside for his sixtieth birthday had she breathed such pure air.

And her crossed arms fell to her sides.

And she tilted back her head as the sun shone down upon her.

Her legs and feet worked harder as she reached the incline of the hills she had seen when she had been standing at the edge of the forest. Her feet were aching from the tightness of her shoes and halfway up the hill, she sat down on the moist grass and proceeded to unlace her leather boots and take off her white socks and then she was barefooted and her mother and her aunt Gardenia would have screamed in terror at the impropriety of it all, her feet bare and touching the moist grass, the hem of her dress caked deep in mud.

And her heart beat in elation.

A gust of wind flew past her and carried with it a piercing scream.

It made her freeze in her tracks for a moment: that disruption of such an idyllic moment.

And then she ran the rest of the way up the hill.

And from her vantage point up the hill, she looked down at a small hamlet. It was a collection of houses- rather, straw huts and in the middle of the hamlet there was an assembly of people. Julia looked on in confusion. These people, from what she could see from her position, were rather odd and peculiar, dressed in beige and antique-looking garbs that reminded her of that drawing of a medieval scene her uncle had shown to her once. Truly the whole scene she looked down upon seemed like something from her books.

She crouched down on the ground to remain invisble to the assembly and then she heard a snarling voice announce: "Disclose the location of Robin of Locksley- outlawed and now known as Robin of the Hood- and nothing bad shall befall you." And her heart stuttered in her chest.

What witchcraft was this? Robin of the Hood was the hero of one of the legends she had so long ago abandoned. A noblemen who stole from the rich and gave to the poor under the tyrranous reign of the Sheriff of Nottingham. In the times of King Richard Lionheart. Who ruled approximately at the end of the twelfth century. Her mouth grew dry with horror as she tried to make sense of what she had just heard.

Her thoughts were interrupted by another exclamation- this time the voice was deeper and more booming and it caused a shiver to race down her spine: "Loosen your tongues or lose your tongues!" Her eyes looked down at the crouching people who faced two dark figures on horses which were flanked on either side by a row of guards in steel armour and her eyes disbelieved what she was seeing.

And it surely had to be a inscenation. Some community who was so obsessed with medieval times and its heroes that they decided to act out a possible scene.

But then one of the guards came forward as none of the people responded to the two dark figures' demands and pulled a person from the crowd. And the person started to scream and it was so believable that her gut wrenched. The guard forced the person down to his knees and one of the dark figures descended from its horse and stalked towards the kneeling person with measured, powerful steps.

And he brandished a blade which shone in the morning sun. And the person was still screaming. And the dark figure seized the person. And the person screamed louder. And his screams grew louder and more pained. And she had to resist the urge to cover her ears at the despair. And then there was silence. And she had to cover her mouth with her hands otherwise it would be her screams replacing the ones from the person who now no longer had a tongue. And the dark figure stepped away from the person who without the support crumpled to the ground in a mass that no longer looked human. And the dark figure dropped something on the ground. And she heard the sound of crows hawking. And she realised that this was no act. And she wondered if she was truly going insane.

If instead of rolling, green meadows she wasn't lying crouched on some abandoned cobblestreet in London in her time. And if she was just imagining all this, truly driven mad from the bereavement of her time.

She lay on her back, having turned away from the grotesque scene and she looked at the sky above her with wide eyes.

She had arrived at the realisation that somehow she was in Medieval England.

It was like something out of the stories she had loved so much as a child. But this was reality. And she was living this. And the maddening realisation made her numb and imperceptible to anything else.

She barely registered that voices rose and there was a commotion behind her in the small hamlet, before everything went silent once more. And when she finally came to once more- she hadn't even realised she was unconscious- the sun was high in the sky and the skin on her face burned from the prolonged exposure of her ivory skin to the ray of the sun. She sat up and after a moment of despaired reflection, she decided to tred her way back down the hill and due south.

She knew from the little she'd seen that the hamlet she'd come across was not a place she wanted to be in. With no place to go she proceeded to wander aimlessly- just like a cloud, as her uncle's favourite poet would say- alongside the edge of the forest.

* * *

  _It was Friday and she was sitting cross-legged at doorstep, eagerly awaiting his arrival. Propriety prevented her to jump up and bound down the steps towards the man when she saw her uncle exiting his black automobile and arriving back home to the manor._

_His grey eyes were immediately drawn to her and she knew by the quirk of his lip that she was wearing a large and eager smile._

_It was Friday and after her uncle had finished his business down at the Wharf he would always return home with a book for her. He entered the house past her, as he always did and she followed him, with measured footsteps that belied her childish enthusiasm, to his study._

_And as soon as he had shrugged out of his overcoat and had made his place comfortably at his desk, he handed her a wrapped package._

_She took it from him, graciously thanking him and she had to control her fingers which longed to just rip apart the brown paper which encased the book. But she opened it with the amount of decorum she could manage. And she looked down at the moss book cover._

_Her uncle explained to her as she passed her hand reverently over the green binding: "It's a collection of ballads about Robin Hood, the hero of Nottingham." Her lips quirked into a small smile as her uncle continued: "He steals from the rich and gives to the poor."_

_Julia would spend the next days reading the ballads with enchantment and wonder, immersing herself in the world of the Earl Robin Hood, who was outlawed by the villainous Sheriff of Nottingham. She would read about fair Maid Marian, his lady love and about his band of outlaws: Friar Tuck, Little John who was anything but little and the singing minstrel Allan-A-Dale. She read about Guy of good Gisborne in his capull hyde and the various plots of the Sheriff to capture Robin Hood and how the latter always outsmarted him._

* * *

She didn't know how long she had walked for when she was startled out of her memory by a sound and she recognized it as horse neighing.

She looked to her side to see a beautiful white stead looking at her, standing on the gravel road. There were two pairs of eyes regarding her and she looked towards the second pair. And sitting on the back of the horse was an equally beautiful woman who was looking at her with her face scrunched in confusion. And she could understand the source of the woman's confusion. Because the woman was dressed in medieval garb that even to her eyes indicated her station as a noblewoman due to the finesse of the material and the precious gems around her neck. And Julia... She was still dressed in her green overcoat above her dress and the difference in style between their way of dress was so obvious and was like a glaring indication that Julia didn't belong here.

The woman seemed to come to some sort of decision and proceeded to dismount from her horse. With her reins in her hand, she approached Julia like one would approach a frightened doe. Julia supposed that this was the impression she was giving, of a frightened and shy animal who was just waiting for the smallest of precedences to jump up and away, she had even taken a step back when the woman had dismounted from the horse.

The woman raised her hand placatingly as Julia eyed her suspiciously and with a soft and rich voice stated: "It's alright. Who are you? I am sure that I have never seen you before in the county of Nottinghamshire." And with that there was another piece of evidence supporting this mad theory of Julia's that she somehow indeed found herself in Robin Hood's Nottingham.

The woman was looking at her expectantly but Julia dared not say a word in fear that were she to even utter a syllable she would somehow incriminate herself. She was well aware of the accusations of witchcraft that were raised during this time and the heinous consequences that awaited those accused.

The woman gave her an encouraging smile and stated: "I'm Lady Marian of Knighton." And Julia's eyes widened with realisation. And she had to hold back from inhaling sharply at the revelation so as to not alert the woman that she was familiar with her.

The woman's beautiful features adopted an expression of pity and Julia had to stop herself from bristling at it and the woman whispered: "Are you dumb?" Julia looked to her side and let her silence be the answer. Despite her pride begging her to speak out and nullify the woman's assumption, she figured that it would be best to allow the woman to wallow in her belief.

She startled when she felt Lady Marian taking her hand and she looked toward the taller woman who was smiling gently at her and stated: "Come you seem to be lost and aimless. Come with me to Knighton." Julia was stepping back, unwilling to do what what she had asked because she didn't want to get involved with this- with any of it, fearing that if she did, she would never return be able to return home- Perhaps that's why she wandered so aimlessly, she searched for a way to go back to her uncle and to her little Edward. Seeing the girl's reluctance, Lady Marian tightened her grip on her hand and beseeched: "Come. Night will fall soon. Stay in Knighton at least for the night."

And Julia proceeded to study her face. And there was no trace of malice or second intentions visible. And because she seemed so genuine- or maybe because Lady Marian was the only thing that she knew in this place, even if just as a character in a story- she gave a short nod.

And the woman's face spread into a smile. She offered little resistance after that when Lady Marian proceeded to pull her along, their hands still clasped, and after a short walk they arrived in Knighton.

It resembled the hamlet she had seen before with the small, straw huts and the people in grey and brown garb, going about their way with wicker baskets or wooden pails. But one thing which was different from the previous settlement was the absence of the two dark figures. And that was the thing which instilled a little relief in her heart.

Lady Marian finally came to a stop before a small chapel and stepping in, she curtsied and crossed herself like a good Christian before she called to the Friar standing at the altar. "Dearest Friar Tuck, I have a lonesome wanderer with me who seeks refuge in Knighton. Will you take her in?"

She studied the man who she had read ballads about and his gentle wrinkly face coupled with his small and portly frame corresponded exactly with the image her mind had painted when reading about him.

The friar inclined his head and stated: "The church does not turn away anyone in their hour of need. I will gladly take her in as is my command by God." Then he turned towards her and with a gentle smile he asked her: "What is your name, child?"

Marian answered: "She does not speak, Friar Tuck." He nodded his head in understanding before fully turning to Lady Marian and proceeding to discuss something which Julia tuned out of.

She would go to sleep later, lying on one of the wooden benches in the chapel with a thin blanket covering her and with her eyes trained on the hay roof of the building. And her heart would be tight with fear and premonition of what was to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off: thank you to eveyone wh kudo'ed the story. I'm so glad you liked the first chapter.  
> This is the next installment of the sory. In my previous attempt of it, I had many chapters dedicated to Julia and Guy's childhood. Now in my second attempt I decided to get straight into the story and intersperse the background story a little. What do you think? was that a wise decision or is the story reading too rushed?  
> Do you guys like Julia? i wanted to make her as complex as possible. Instead of the sweet and innocent young women I write about in other stories, I decided to make Julia to be a jaded and bitter girl. but you do see flashes of innocence and hope sometimes i think.  
> Thank you for reading the story. I would love some written feedback. I hope you enjoy.


	3. Part III

_"And it's as solid as a rock rolling down a hill"- My Mistakes Were Made For You, The Last Shadow Puppets_

* * *

_Nottinghamshire, 1194_

Lady Marian came to her early the next day with a bundle of brown clothes. 

Friar Tuck was just in the process of modestly breaking fast with her, which consisted of a slice of brown bread and a cup of clear water. 

The woman arrived and handing her the brown clothes, she smiled and stated: "Good morning. I believed you might wish to change out of your clothes." And not wanting to appear ungrateful, Julia took the bundle from Lady Marian. But her stomach still twisted as she did. She felt as if accepting these clothes meant that she was accepting her fate of remaining here in 12th Century Midlands.

She dressed in the backroom that Friar Tuck guided her to and while she braided her hair, Lady Marian entered the backroom as well, just having finished her conversation with the Friar. The woman gave Julia a warm smile after looking at her in the plain brown dress and then her eyes flickered to Julia's green skirt and overcoat which she had drapped over the wooden chair.

Her fingers were deftly braiding her ebony-brown hair when Lady Marian remarked: "Your clothing is so queer. I do not believe I have ever seen anything that nearly resembles it." And Julia's fingers stuttered and stilled mid-braid. She had her back turned to Lady Marian and she was thankful for that because surely her eyes had adopted a panicked look and she knew that she would not be able to hide the trepidation she felt at that question. Despite her training as a nurse and learning to appear as impassive as she could before dying or ailing patients, Julia still frequently heard that her emotions could be clearly read on her face.

Lady Marian believed she was mute and it came to Julia how advantageous that assumption would be to her. Because Lady Marian wasn't expecting an explanation from someone who was physically incapable of giving it. Julia would not be pressed to explain things which she possibly couldn't.

The only downside was that not being able to explain herself would allow people to come to their own conclusions. And Julia shuddered to think what those were as the image of a stake came to her mind.

She finished braiding her hair and after passing her hand to straighten the apron of her dress, she turned back towards Lady Marian and squared her shoulders. And she almost felt like she was back in the West London Hospital in her time, preparing for her morning shift and steeling herself for the numerous wounds and ailments she would encounter today.

But it wasn't like that. She was in medieval England and she still felt slightly insane thinking that. And she was just about to follow Lady Marian, who she previously only knew as a character in a story, out into a medieval village. And while she knew more or less what awaited her in the hospital after working there for three years, she had no idea what awaited her in medieval Nottinghamshire.

She followed Lady Marian silently out of the chapel and out into the hamlet. It was a warm day and the sun shone down upon her relentlessly.

"I know that the stories travelling around England about Nottinghamshire are less than kind at the moment," Lady Marian began and Julia looked towards the older woman as they walked side by side. "But Knighton is a truly lovely place and me and my father have tried and kept the influence of the Sheriff as minimal as possible here." The older woman turned towards her and fixed her with an intense gaze and Julia realised that Lady Marian was trying to reassure her. That Lady Marian wanted to convince her that staying in Knighton would not be dangerous to her.

And Julia wondered why the woman was going through such efforts to convince her to remain here. They were perfect strangers to one another and Julia was a seemingly mute and lost traveller with no possessions and nothing to her name. And still Lady Marian seemed determined to say what she needed to to convince Julia to remain.

Julia hadn't expected that. In such a precarious environment where only the wealthy and careful survive, she hadn't expected such genuine kindness. And it almost hurt her that she couldn't accept it.

Perhaps if she had been three years younger and there were no responsibilities and nothing to her name, she could've stayed. But Julia remembered her promise to her little brother. And she remembered her sickly uncle lying on his bed asking for her. And she owed so much to these two, because she knew that they were the only people who truly loved her. And she couldn't possibly abandon them. Not when they needed her the most.

She looked away from Lady Marian's expectant blue eyes and averted her gaze to the ground. She let that be her answer.

From beside her she heard the noble woman sigh and then finally after a few seconds of disappointed silence: "I at least wish I knew your name." And Julia's gaze snapped up and she was just about to open her mouth, impressions and plans be damned, because this is the least she owed to the woman who took her by the hand and led her to safety when she had nothing and was wandering lonely as a cloud, when there was a loud and piercing shout. 

Both women's gaze snapped instantly and simultaneously to the side where the sound had come from and they saw people moving quickly towards the grain field which adjoined the Knighton estate. And they both took off running after a second of surprised hesitance. 

In one of the grain rows a multitude of people had assembled in a circle, likely around the individual who had shouted. Lady Marian called out: "Make place" and at the sound of her voice, the villagers immediately followed her demand and parted. In their midst was a man who was siting on the ground, clutching his leg, his face pale and twisted with pain. The man sat moaning surrounded by a steadily growing puddle of blood which came from his leg.

At the sight of the injurry, Lady Marian gave a horrified gasp and after recovering from her shock, she turned towards the man beside her and instructed: "Go call on Sir Galahad at Nottingham castle and inform him that there is someone who requires his attentions at Knighton."

Julia was standing at Lady Marian's right side and looking down at the man she was reminded of the time when she and the other nurses of West London hospital had been employed to care for the victims of the London Blitz in 1942. It was the first time that she had tended to the ill and injured outside the hospital as her colleagues and her had been sent to Hammersmith to care for those hit by the German air-attack. And Nurse Anna, a woman about two years older than her who hailed originally from Edinburgh, had come across a man whose leg had a gaping wound from glass debris which had cut his ankle. And the man was bleeding just as profusely as the other man was. Nurse Anna and her, not knowing what to do in such a situation as it was both their first time on-field, asked another helper to call for an ambulance. The only thing was the man had bled so profusely that when the ambulance arrived and finally took him to the hospital, the physicians had seen no other possibility than to amputate his leg.

And Julia had never felt so shamed or wretched in her life when the surgeon had told her that if she had tended to the leg onscene, she could have prevented the man from loosing his leg.

She took a step towards the man and then knelt down beside him. Momentarily, the man stopped moaning in pain and looked towards her with his brow furrowed and his eyes still shining with excessive pain. She moved towards him and he flinched away like an injured animal. Seeing the man's alarm, she raised her hands in what she hoped was a soothing gesture. She usually soothingly spoke to her patients if they showed any sign of alarm or fear towards her but she knew she couldn't in Lady Marian's presence. So she fixed the kindest and warmest smile on her face and hoped that would be enough.

The man studied her face frenziedly and then Julia saw his shoulders lower a bit. And then Julia nodded her head towards his leg and looked back towards him. And the man kept looking at her with wide and unblinking eyes but his posture was no longer rigid like a stick.

Julia took that as the greatest amount of acquisance and she slowly moved her hands towards the man's blood-soaked ones which were clutching his legs. She put her hands on his and then looking up at him with the greatest amount of reassurance she could muster, she moved his hands away from his leg so that she could assess the injury. It was a deep cut and it was bleeding profusely and Julia believed that surely he had somehow managed to cut his tibial vein. Luckily the cut was mostly clean and free of debris, so that Julia was sure that she could prevent an infection.

Not paying mind that she would sully or damage the dress she had received this morning, Julia ripped off some of the cloth from the apron and quickly applied it to the wound. She took the man's bloody hands which were now hanging limply on his side and she took them and put them on the white clothes. Looking up at him, she applied pressure to his hands so that he would understand that he needed to hold on tightly to the cloth and apply pressure to the wound. The man was still looking at her with wide eyes but seemed to understand what she wanted from him.

Then Julia deftly untied her apron and using its straps she tied it around his leg. Julia had learned how to apply a tourniquet from a senior physician the next time she had been employed outside the hospital to care for the injured. She tied the straps just above the injury and then proceeded to braid the straps in order to cut off the bloodflow between the leg and the heart so as to minimize his blood loss.

And then she held on tightly to the tourniquet with a strength that belied her small and fragile-looking frame and she waited for the castle physician to arrive. She ignored the baffled looks aimed at her.

* * *

She was washing the blood from her hands in the wash basin from Knighton's healer room. The castle physician had taken an eternity to arrive from Nottingham and Julia was sure if the man and his injury had been left unattended for so long the man would not have only lost his leg but surely also his life from the blood loss.

She turned back to the physician. After assessing his injury, the man had proceeded to begin sewing shut the wound. Lady Marian was standing beside him, worrying her lower lip while she made great attempts to look away from the wound.

She was just drying her hands on some clean cloth she had found beside the basin when the physician stood and began to remove her tourniquet after having sewn closed the wound. Then he turned towards her and handed her the bloodied apron and with a small smile he stated: "I don't believe you will be able to use this again. Quite lamentable, it seemed a trusty apron." The corner of her lips twitched and she closed her eyes to not look at the amused twinkle in his eyes.

The physician continued: "However trained you in the art of healing should be very proud indeed. Had it not been for you, I'm sure that once I had arrived losing his leg would be the kindest fate this man could have hoped for." She looked up at him and she didn't know what it was: Perhaps it was his kind, hazel eyes or the fact that his namesake, Sir Galahad, was the most noble and wholesome character she knew, but she grew warm and gave him a thankful smile.

He looked at her for a few seconds before he bowed to both her and Lady Marian and then left to return to Nottingham.

Julia was looking after him until Lady Marian's voice startled her: "So you are a healer?" Julia looked towards the other woman and then gave an incline of her head as confirmation. Lady Marian gave a slow incline of her head and then folding her hands over her stomach, she walked towards the man lying on the cot who slept and rested after the incredible strain the injury must have caused him.

While looking down at the patient, Lady Marian gave a humourless chuckle and stated: "I'm sure you are wondering why Knighton has a healer's room but no healer." The woman brushed her fingers beatifically over the man's sweaty brow, almost as if he was a familiar she cared a great deal for rather than one of her tennants. "Our previous healer, Sir Blight, fled Nottinghamshire after a great many people contracted small pox last spring," her mout twisted in derision at the memory of the man. "It wasn't a greatly-grieved loss I assure you. He was lazy and avaricious and cared nought for the profession he learned." Her beautiful features smoothed out and she continued: "But it still left us with no healer. Sir Galahad tries to come as often as the Sheriff will spare him but that is not nearly often enough."

She then looked towards Julia and she felt exposed by her kind and almost beseeching look: "You are so young. But you seem so skilled and kind at what you do." And Julia knew what Lady Marian wanted from her and feeling wretched at having to reject the woman's pleas, she began shaking her head. In response, Lady Marian swooped towards her and grabbing her hands she began: "Tell me, is there somewhere you need to be so urgently?" She looked up into her pleading blue eyes and thinking of her uncle and her little brother she gave a nod of her head.

Lady Marian's face crumbled but she could feel the woman's grip tighten and Julia knew that the noble woman had anything but given up. "I found you travelling without direction. Do you know how to get to where you need to be?" She looked at Lady Marian and then after a few seconds of hesitation she decided to be honest and shook her head. She saw the woman's eyes light up and raising their hands to her chest she exclaimed: "Well then why do you not remain in Knighton until you have figured out how to get there. Because wandering as aimlessly as you did yesterday shall do none any kindness."

Lady Marian must have seen something in Julia's face falter because she tightened the grip on her hands and whispered: "I knew yesterday when I saw you that you would only bring good to us."

* * *

At this point in the novel it would say that the heroine eventually got used to her new surroundings and welcomed the change with open arms. You knew, when the heroine eventually comes to accept the situation she finds herself in and goes to great efforts to adapt.

But this wasn't one of her novels and Julia was no heroine. And she surely did not get used to being in 12th Century Nottinghamshire. She had agreed to Lady Marian's request as she had seen the logic behind the Lady's last argument: There was little to nothing she could do as she did not know how to get out of medieval Nottinghamshire and get back to wartime England. She didn't even know how she got here the first place.

So she decided to stay in Knighton. Considering the circumstances, Julia thought that would be wisest. Despite the dark threat of the Sheriff of Nottingham looming just a few miles away, Julia thought that she would be safest here. She knew nothing about medieval England, her storybooks did not even come close to the reality she figured after a few days there. And she was under Lady Marian and her father Sir Edward's protection. The chances of finding something like this a second time were near to inexistent.

So she bade her time in Knighton and worked as the village healer.

But her acceptance of her situation in no way meant that she adapted to the times.

It wasn't only the general horridness of the time and being unable to do anything as she was confronted with the misery and poverty of the people and their fear under the tyrranous reign of the Sheriff. It wasn't the lack of hygiene and the filth which revolted her.

She was no stranger to living in bereaved times. And she would constantly wonder what was worse: medieval Nottinghamshire or wartime England. She'd felt bitter in her time: Bitter and angry and repulsed by their leaders who claimed that they had their best interest in mind while following their empty and old ideals. Meanwhile, the English died of hunger and cold or they fell in battle leaving their bereaved family behind.

Now, Julia could no longer muster feeling anything but a cold hopelessness. Because there was nothing she could do; there was nothing she could do in wartime England either but at least she'd never truly realised that. But here she was confronted with her helplessness head-on.

She knew nothing about medieval medicine. She'd always believed that medicine in her time was outdated and ineffective but it was no comparison to the primitive practices of the Middle Ages. There were only herbs and bandages and the ocassional rope she could use. The previous physician, poor excuse of one he'd been from what Lady Marian had told her, had left behind some books about medieval medicine. And while her Latin was rusty from the few classes she'd had with her uncle when she'd reached fifteen years of age, she could still make out the uses of some herbs. And she decided to employ this and some primitive practices from her time which did not require any modern equipment. She positively refused to employ any leeches in her practices.

Lady Marian was a small consolation to her. She was infinitely grateful to the woman for taking her in despite the queerness of the situation she had found Julia in. She knew she would always be grateful for the genuine kindness Lady Marian had showed her. And for the subsequent support the woman bestowed on her. 

Despite the fact that it was glaringly obvious that there was something about Julia that was just not right and that Julia was socially inferior to her, being the newest of her tennants, Lady Marian visited her at her healer's hut everyday to talk at her and occasionally assist with a patient should Julia require the help.

She did not realise the meaning behind the woman's near constant presence at her side until Lady Marian, interrupting a tale from her childhood, thoughtfully remarked: "Forgive me but I just realised that I have come to consider you my dearest friend but I do not even know your name." Julia had been grinding nettle root into powder and she looked up at the woman's remark with wide eyes.

The beautiful noble woman was giving her a sad smile and Julia's face instantly softened at the offer of friendship- later she would think that it wasn't even an offer, Lady Marian had decided that they would become friends and Julia had no other choice to accept even had she not wanted the friendship.

She moved towards the registry book where she recorded her patients, their ailments and her treatment and on the back page she wrote her name. She beckoned Lady Marian and pointed at the name. Seeing this, Lady Marian smiled and whispered: "So it's Julia." Then looking up she smiled at her and stated: "It suits you, my friend."

Julia was sure that she would have thought kindly of Lady Marian for the rest of her life had their friendship not introduced _his_ presence into her life. 

* * *

Lady Marian was just relaying her experience at today's Assembly of Nobles at Nottingham Castle that she had accompanied her father on as Julia was storing the flask of extract of elderberry she had used on her previous patient in the back storage room. 

"The Sheriff wishes to raise the harvest tax once more," Lady Marian scoffed as Julia straightened the vials on the shelf. "As if he didn't already exploit the farmers enough."

From behind her she heard the door to her hut opening and there was suddenly a new voice: "Marian. The peasants told me I would likely find you here." The voice was deep and it made a shiver race down Julia's spine and she thought she recognized it from somewhere.

"Sir Guy," she heard her friend exclaim and she did not sound as if she was glad at having been found by the individual who had just arrived. Figuring her friend might appreciate her presence in the healing room, Julia exited the storage room and walked back into the main area.

And then her jaw slackened and her arms fell to her side as she looked upon the dark figure that had just arrived in her hut.    

        

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter. Thanks to everyone for reading the story. Please tell me what you think about the plot and characters. I would appreciate any feedback: positive as well as constructive ;)


	4. Part IV

_"The fact is that it probably will hit something on the hazardous terrain"- My Mistakes Were Made For You, The Last Shadow Puppets_

* * *

Her dreams started sometime during her childhood. She would be hard pressed to pinpoint the exact night it first started. To her, her childhood was an indiscernable mixture of her grief at her father's passing, her mother's increasing callousness and the stories her uncle would read to her.

She had always attributed her dreams to the fanciful stories she had been so enraptured with during her childhood.

Those dreams were never a regular occurence as they came to her in irregular intervals. And she could never recall their exact content after awakening from them.

It was always impressions.

Warm breath blowing across the nape of her neck as a word she would not recall in the morning was whispered in her ear.

Large fingers touching the tips of hers.

Arms holding her tightly, almost hurting her, as she felt someone kiss the crown of her head.

And the only thing aside from these impressions which remained with her was the image of an imposingly tall, dark man clad in black leather and with a stormy expression on his chiseled face.

In a way he became her childhood companion, like some of her contemporaries had imaginary friends they would occasionally talk to. But he only came to her in her dreams and differently from her colleagues who eventually outgrew their fantasy friends, he'd been a constant companion in her life. 

She had always believed that he was a product from her fascination with stories. 

Until the morning Sir Guy of Gisborne entered her hut in Knighton.

* * *

_Nottinghamshire 1194_

The dark man before her was giving her a dark look and she shook herself from the disbelief that the figure she had previously believed was only a fantasy was standing before her in the flesh. 

She looked away to her side. She could feel his icy blue eyes still trained on her intently. But then after a few seconds of silence, she felt his gaze lift from her and he said: "You were gone before I could speak to you, Marian."

"I was needed back in Knighton, Sir Guy. I'm sure you understand that," the woman stated shortly and Julia turned her back to the two. "But you have found me. What is your wish, sir," Lady Marian sighed and made no secret that she found the conversation to the dark man a great burden.

His tone did not betray his consciousness of that fact as it remained equally level as before and he explained: "I wished to invite both you and your father to dine with me next Friday. I should hope you would accept." His voice softened towards the end and with a pang Julia realised that this man was fond of her friend.

She did not want to understand why this realisation caused her to feel a pang in her chest.

"I believe this invitation should be issued to my father," her friend stated icily and with a tone of finality. The man, Sir Guy, did not miss a beat answering: "Yes but I wished to know beforehand if you would be amenable to it." There was a beat of silence before her friend answered, a hint of defeat in her voice: "I shall agree with what my father decides."

He did not answer anything to that statement but: "Lady Marian" as a sort of leave. She heard his steps as he made his way out of her hut and unable to resist, she looked over her shoulders.

Brown eyes met blue and for a second they held each other's gaze.

And then he was gone and she looked down and felt oddly exhausted after that.

Her friend huffed beside her and shaking her head, Julia turned towards Lady Marian who sat down on the edge of her patients' cot and had her arms crossed out infront of her chest with a sour expression on her face.

Feeling her gaze on her, Lady Marian looked towards her friend and rolling her eyes she explained: "That was Sir Guy of Gisborne. He is the Sheriff's Master-At-Arms." Marian gave a low sigh and rolling her shoulders, she whispered: "I have received the _great_ honour of being the object of his courtship."

Julia only gave a nod of her head before looking back towards the herbs she had to prepare. And again she was grateful that everyone believed her to be mute. For some reason she felt as if her voice would fail her were she required to speak.

* * *

Being able to remain in Nottinghamshire for an extended period of time without the Sheriff of Nottingham's knowledge was the most fanciful and improbable thought she had entertained for a long time.

As a young girl she had made a habit of entertaining such thoughts. She remembered sitting on her windowsill and intently watching the night sky for any sign of Peter Pan and Tinkerbell, hoping that he would choose her like he had chosen The Darling Children to go to Neverland.

But he never came.

She remembered waiting for her brother to return home. But then they had received that phonecall from France. And after that she had never again entertained unrealistic ideas that only served to break her heart. 

The Sheriff of Nottingham came for her the day after her fateful meeting with Guy of Gisborne. And she shouldn't have been surprised about that because she knew that the Sheriff of Nottingham would surely soon follow his Master-At-Arms. 

But her heart still started to beat furiously- as if it wanted to escape her chest- when the door to her hut was beat down and armed guard in yellow and black clothes seized her and started to pull her out of the hut and towards the main square of Knighton. 

She struggled as best she could feeling that her fate was about to turn very bleak. But the guards were much stronger than her and she could only look on helplessly, twisting and turning as much as she could so that she could wind out of the guards' grip. As they arrived at the main square, Julia saw two dark figures on a horse. And as she approached she recognized one of them as the proud and imposing figure of Sir Guy and the other was a balding man who seemed much smaller than Sir Guy, but whose sinister expression made her heart stutter with alarm.

The guards threw her down roughly infront of the horses of the two dark men and she was on her hands and knees, breathing heavily. She heard a nasal voice drawl: "So this is the nameless little leper of Knighton." She swallowed heavily and daring to look up she saw the Sheriff smiling a crooked and malicious smirk down at her.

She was just about to rise- she could no longer stand to be in this degrading position, on her hands and knees before these men- when she suddenly felt someone taking a hold of her arm. She flinched, fearing that the guards had swooped back down on her but looking to her side, she looked into the worried blue eyes of her friend. 

"What is the meaning of this," she heard Sir Edward's booming voice demand from the Sheriff and his henchman. She rose with Lady Marian's held and then standing to her full height, she observed the Sheriff train an almost mocking smirk at the nobleman and explain: "You have a new tennant, Sir Edward. One that you failed to mention to me. This has been brought to my attention and I only do my duty by coming to investigate." 

The grey-haired man was undeterred and continued: "Surely you could have come to me before swooping down on the young girl as if she were a criminal." The Sheriff's smirk widened and shrugging his shoulders he answered innocently: "Now you see, Sir Edward. To some extents she is. She has been evading the healer's tax for three fortnights now if my information is accurate." 

Julia felt ice cold fear grip her. She knew from her stories and from Lady Marian who important taxes were to the Sheriff of Nottingham and having evaded those surely meant nothing good for her.

The Sheriff bestowed her with a sickly sweet smile and drawled: "Now I will just assume that it was a great oversight on your and Sir Edward's part. Just pay me what you owe me before the law, girl." Her eyes widened as she looked at the Sheriff. She had not demanded money for her services to the peasants. There had been no need to: Lady Marian and Friar Tuck had provided her with the food she needed and she was loathe to demand any remuneration from those that were already so in need.

A beat of silence and inactivity followed before the Sheriff, now impatient, asked: "Have you heard me, girl?" She looked up. Even if she wanted to talk she could not. Her tongue was tied with fear. The Sheriff did not particularly appear very frightful but she knew appearances were deceiving. And he had Sir Guy at his side. Even if he was inoffensive, Julia felt that his henchman was not.

"Speak when your superiors adress you," she flinched at the Master-At-Arm's rough exclamation. And she looked down, panic now coursing through her veins. Her heart was beating so quickly she could hear her blood stream through her ears.

Through the noise she heard Lady Marian's muffled voice: "Do you not see that she is mute?" The Sheriff cackled cruelly and then looking down at her with mock pity he hissed: "Fate has truly not been kind to you has it, girl? A more than mysterious background and then no voice to explain it." He continued laughing, cruelly mocking her and she tightened her jaw as her cheeks grew warm with humiliation.

"I have no patience for tax evaders. Seize her," the Sheriff demanded with a dismissive hand gesture. And then she was being pulled from Lady Marian's comforting and supportive grip and the guards were again hauling her after the Sheriff and Sir Guy who had turned around and were riding back to Nottingham.

And she was paralyzed with fear at being at the Sheriff's mercy.

* * *

Her steps quickened when she saw the familiar form of the Sheriff's henchman. She called out to his name and her exclamation echoed through the cold, dark halls of the castle. Marian had spent a good portion of her formative years living in this castle. She did not remember the halls being so algid and so desolate in her childhood memories. 

Perhaps it had been Sheriff Vasey who had brought the coldness and the darkness to the halls of Nottingham castle after suceeding her father. Just like he had brought misery and devastation to the people of Nottingham. And the man now before her, who sought to make her life difficult. 

He turned towards her at the sound of his name and the avaricious smile he gave her caused a shiver to race down her spine. Yet despite her trepidations she continued walking towards him until she was standing before him and with an obstinate expression she crossed her arms over her chest and exclaimed: "The thing with Julia that was badly done." 

The dark men furrowed his brow at her and she clarified: "The healer from Knighton who you seized this morning for evading taxes." She spat the last part, making no secret of her disdain for the Sheriff's practices. Sir Guy sighed, seeing that the topic of conversation between them would be everything but pleasant and he stated levelly- infuriating her with his matter-of-factness: "She has preprated the law, Marian. She has received nothing but her due."

She felt her face twist into a repulsed scowl and spat: "She has only entranched on the Sheriff's wishes." The man looked down at her with an expression that made her feel like she was a child who was being explained something incredibly simple: "The Sheriff's wishes are the law, Marian."

She saw that her anger and accusations would bring her nothing. So she let her arms fall to her side and her face softened from her incensed scowl and she whispered: "She is just a child, Sir Guy. She is so young and to imagine her in that dungeon." She shuddered visibly to emphasise her words.

She felt that his icy blue eyes were piercing through her as he watched her distress at the thought of the girl in the dungeons and then he stated carefully: "You take a great interest in her regard." She folded her arms over her stomach and stated in a low voice: "Father and I feel guilty that she must now suffer due to our oversight." Then she looked up through her lashes at him and his face fell at her look. "I have also come to see her as a dear friend and confidante. The thought of her distress pains me."

The man looked away feably and muttered: "You shouldn't befriend peasants, Marian. It is no sightly of you." She swooped towards him and exclaimed passionately in her friend's defence: "Oh but if you knew her... Would you spend one mere hour in presence you would see how utterly impossible it is not to love this girl." Sir Guy looked down at her and she decided to put her hand on his arm. The black leather of his armour felt cold beneath her palm. 

"Can you not do anything, Sir Guy," she beseeched him. He closed his eyes and then: "You know the Sheriff's stance on tax evaders, Marian." She stepped even closer to him so that he could feel her warmth. "Please, just try. For my dear friend. For _me_."

He looked down at her and then taking a step back, he muttered: "I must go now." He turned around and walked down the castle hallway with hurried steps.

And Marian knew, with a smirk on her lips, that she had got him.

* * *

_She had always been described as something of an English Rose._

_Her family had always described her to be a handsome child during her youth and had silently rejoiced at the opportune match they would be able to make with her. And as she had grown into a young woman, her mother and aunt had groomed her._

_'It was a shame,' her grandmother would say. 'It was a shame she was so willful and improper. Such a waste of beauty. For not even the handsomest face would blind a husband to his wife's flawed character.'_

_Surrounded by people who commented on her appearance daily, Julia was aware that she was physically beautiful._

_And she would find herself periodically cursing that fact. When her grandmother would look at her with disappointment and disapproval when she would visit and Julia would be sitting in the garden with her legs crossed on the freshly-cut grass. When Mr. Tony Watson, the son and heir of their neighbours who were frightfully wealthy due to their textile company, would come to call on her and she was reminded of his cruelty and arrogance as a child which he had retained growing up if his speech was any indication._

_And now she was looking at herself in the mirror of her bathroom cabinet as she put the last pins in her hair and secured her tight braid across her nape. And even now she cursed her beauty. Because what good had it brought her in the last years._

_And she felt that her ivory skin and her dark glossy hair were utterly unsuited to the bitter look in her eyes as she closed the bathroom cabinet and straightened her nurses' uniform. If she had been perhaps less handsome or perhaps more blind like some of the other girls her age, she would have been happier._

* * *

Sir Galahad could say with utter surety that he did not like the two men he dined with this evening at all. 

He had been invited to dine with Sir Guy and Sheriff Vasey this evening and despite his dislike for the men he had little opportunity to decline. 

He was under the Sheriff's service-  _under his thumb_ \- and everyday he found himself more and more disquieted at his position. _  
_

Sir Galahad felt safe to say that his parents had instilled in him principles of justice and fairness that he had grasped onto during his entire life and which he made use of in his every action. So he felt repulsed by the Sheriff's scrupellessness and his avarice. And he was truly frightened by the cruelty and violence his henchman often employed of. 

Nottinghamshire was a truly desolate place. And Sir Galahad would often find himself thinking back fondly of the green pastures and the utter peace of his home county Surrey. But whenever he would think of that he would quickly chase away those memories. Because he was in Nottinghamshire and until he had paid off the debt he would find himself with little opportunity to leave this place. 

The only ray of light that broke through the dark anddreary fog that had settled itself figuratively and permanently over Nottingham was Robin Hood. 

"I saw Lady Marian leaving the castle today in quite a state," he remarked to his two companions. He saw Sir Guy tense at the mention of her and attributed it to the affections the dark Master-At-Arms seemed to cultivate towards the noblewoman. 

"Is that so," he heard the Sheriff's nasal voice drawl. He looked towards the bald and cruel man as he shrugged his shoulders while not looking up from his plate. "It's probably something to do with her little, dumb healer from Knighton." He waved his hand dismissively: "Surely she has come to complain about the  _unfairness_ of apprehending the little tax evader. In that case I am happy to have missed her." 

Dark brown eyes and a gentle smile flashed through his mind and remembering he muttered: "Healer from Knighton?" The Sheriff looked towards him for the first time: "Oh yes. Just a little, young girl who is dumb as a wooden board playing at being the village healer. I have heard her to be here three months without it being brought to my attention." He couldn't explain why he felt something akin to anxiety grip him when the Sheriff stated: "She is of little consequence now. Tiny, weak little thing as she looks to be she will not last four nights in the dungeon." He balled his right hand into a fist beneath the table as the Sheriff chuckled cruelly and then remarked: "Shame. Handsome little wench. Isn't she, Gizzy?"

The tall, scowling man did not answer to the Sheriff's provocative comment but raised his head nonetheless to look towards him.

And Sir Galahad understood the impassive man's expression. And they encountered after dinner at the entrance to the dungeons.

* * *

She was sitting leaning against the moist stonewalls with her knees drawn to her chest.

She had never been afraid of the dark. She found that there was already enough for her to fear in the light of the day. And she was silently thankful that it was so dark in the dungeons.

She was afraid that had she been able to see anything before her eyes, had she been able to see what her surroundings looked like and to see the other prisoners she would have been driven mad. The tortured screams and moans that reached her ears were already enough to make her stomach twist and to quicken her heartbeat.

She didn't know how much time has passed between her capture in Knighton and now. It could have been mere hours or it could have been days. Any sense of time had vanished for her down here. It had all blended into one endless void to her.

Perhaps if she died down here she would somehow go back to her time. She felt that she would. She was of no consequence to the Sheriff: He would not make an example of her by executing her, weak and inconsequential little thing he thought her to be. And she was sure that he would not spend a dime on her by feeding her and giving her to drink.

He would let time and fate run its course.

And she wondered that perhaps when she closed her eyes, overcome by hunger and weariness of life, she would open them again to find herself lying in the green pastures of the manor with her little brother tugging at her arm for her to continue reading the tale of _Peter Rabbit_ to her. 

She closed her eyes as she tried to recall the nighttime story that she had read so often to him.

_At last, Peter Rabbit made it back to the cozy burrow where he lived with his family. He was a very tired rabbit indeed!_

She suddenly felt a warmth against her cheek and from the corner of her eyes it became brighter. She cracked open her eyes and looked towards the source of the sudden light. She squinted her eyes at the brightness where her eyes had gotten used to utter darkness but as soon as her eyes had accomodated to the darkness, she saw the familiar form of the physician she had met during her first day in Knighton.

He was looking at her through the bars with furrowed brow and something akin to worry in his eyes. They studied each other for a few silent seconds as she asked herself what he was doing here. She gave a low sigh and in response his brow twisted further and she felt something akin to affection rise in her chest at his mannerism.

She rose from her seated position and then with slow steps she approached the bars of her prison. She had to look up because he was taller than her but they were standing eye-to-eye and she noted with a hint of surprise that the shade of brown from their eyes were similar, almost identical.

"I have seen that you have had the pleasure of making the Sheriff's acquaintance," the physician muttered. She saw that it was meant to somehow lighten the mood. But she couldn't get herself to smile for him. So she simply remained looking up into almost identical chocolate-brown eyes.

"I'm sorry," he whispered to her and he purposely didn't elaborate. _Sorry for the jest. Sorry for the fate that has met you._ She exhaled silently and then raising her hand she allowed it to rest on his. His eyes flickered from her gaze to their touching skin. 

She remembered his name. At that moment she was sure that were her mind to go senile with age, his name would be amongst the last things that would slip away from her. And she was in this dungeon and the Sheriff might as well have given her a death sentence because she was sure that this darkness would be the last thing she saw before going.

So she parted her lips and softly: "Sir Galahad... Its the name of one of King Arthur's knights, you know." She took no notice of the shock in his eyes at the sound of her voice. "He was the bravest and purest of them all. He was the one who found the holy grail and was then escorted to paradise by a heavenly parade."

She smiled gently at him and the shock seemed to retreat from his eyes and eventually he smiled equally as gently down at her.

She turned from him and went back to sitting in her place. And eventually he left.

She did not know at the time that the Master-At-Arms was standing just outside the dungeon.       

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ladies and Gentlemen I present to you: Sir Guy of Gisborne. I'm very nervous as this is his introduction and I have no idea if I have managed to capture his character well. Also I'm worried that the whole Julia-Guy-dream plot device is unrealistic and stupid.   
> I would very much appreciate some feedback as always. Thank you so much for the feedback I got last chapter. Your kind words keep me writing.   
> Love, Maria


	5. Part V

_"And we're just following the flock 'round and in between, before we're smashed to smithereens"- My Mistakes Were Made For You, The Last Shadow Puppets_

* * *

The sun shone down on her through the small barred mirror high on the dungeon walls. That wasn't what woke her up. It was more the first impression that she took notice of at waking. 

She was woken by a loud and metalic 'bang' to her right as the door to her dungeons were thrown open and two guards stepped in. She had only time to wake up and take notice that the early sun was shining down on her before she was roughly hauled to her feet and the guards proceeded to pull her with them. 

Had she even wanted to protest and relent she would've been unable to. Despite her situation, she still felt half-asleep and nowhere near conscious enough to be rebellious. And truly, she saw little reason to relent. Even if they were to take her to the devil himself (and she was sure, from the little she had experienced him, that the Sheriff was the devil's representative on earth) it couldn't possibly be any worse than the dungeon she had been subjected to. 

She did not take in the sight of the dark and cool halls of Nottingham Castle as the guards dragged her on. Her head was lowered and she kept her gaze on the ground so that she could only see the guards' booted feet and the grey cobblestone of floor beneath her. 

Eventually she felt the guards come to a stop and then she was resting back on her own feet instead of having them being dragged lifelessly across the floor. She felt her arms being twisted behind her back as the guards restrained her. 

She looked up from where she stood and saw that she was standing in the middle of a room before a large and imposing table of dark, almost black wood. And behind the table sat the Sheriff of Nottingham in an equally dark and imposing chair. Considering everything she knew about this man, from Marian's tales and from the ballads she had read in her childhood, she would have normally lowered her head, reluctant to defy a man who could order her execution with a snip of his fingers. But the large wooden chair dwarfed his frame and he looked like a small and pathetic man trying to step into shoes that were too big for him. 

So Julia raised her chin and she met his penetrating gaze levelly.

"How did you enjoy your night in the dungeons, little healer," he sneered at her. And she kept her cool gaze, too proud to show that he had in any way affected her. She could look dishevelled and hungry and tired for all she cared. But she knew that if he saw in her eyes that he had broken her spirits she would never forgive herself.    

The man cocked his brow at her lack of reaction and, giving her a mocking smirk, asked: "That good then?"

Behind him were piles upon piles of grey burlap sacks and she was sure that it was filled with the money from the poor souls he exploited. He and his dark henchman who was standing at his right with his arms crossed over his chest.

She did not directly look at the dark and brooding form of Sir Guy of Gisborne. But she could feel his penetrant gaze at her. And she felt an itch at her side.

Almost as if the cells in her body were telling her to look at him.

"Cool, proud little bitch you are, aren't you," she wanted to sneer at his vulgar words and she resisted the urge to flinch at his insult. From her impression of the Sheriff this was harmless.

The dangerous man kept eyeing her and then with a slow and languid smirk he sat back and stated: "I'm afraid that you will no longer be able to enjoy the hospitality of the facilities, however." He kept studying her, hoping to glimpse a falter to her stoic expression at the ominous-sounding declaration. And she didn't know if she rewarded him with what he hoped. She hoped she kept her expression as equally blank as before despite that she felt as if her stomach dropped with fear.

The Sheriff looked about to say something else when he was interrupted by a knock on the door. The man looked away from her and said to someone behind her: "Ah yes, right on time." She heard footsteps behind her and then there was someone passing her. And eventually she saw the castle physician Sir Galahad coming to a stop at the left-hand side of the Sheriff.

And she knew that surely her face must have fallen then. Because surely the nobleman had informed his superior of her little rouse. And Julia tightened her jaw and cursed herself that she should have just kept quiet and not let herself be swept up by some childhood sentimentality.

"I think you might be acquainted with our castle physician? Sir Galahad of Falmouth," the Sheriff addressed her while slightly inclining his head towards the new arrival. He did not await an answer she would not give him as he continued: "Sir Galahad came to talk to me last night on a most curious matter." She tightened her lips and she was desperately trying to recover her proud and stoic expression. She hoped she was suceeding, or at least, not letting the Sheriff see the utter panic which now overtook her.

And then suddenly, and it took Julia by great surprise, the Sheriff's expression twisted with distaste and he drawled: "Sir Galahad requested to take you on as his apprentice." And then she felt numb. At first there was a blankness in her as she took in the words. That was followed by confusion and her eyes snapped towards the curly-haired man who was watching her intently.

She wrenched her eyes away from him as the Sheriff continued: "He has assured me that you would be able to pay off your debt in his service." The man was now eyeing her venomously, as if faulting her that a wrench had been thrown in his plans of her. "Sir Galahad has proven his trustworthiness during his service to me so I felt inclined to grant him his wish." He nods towards the guards who had been holding her tightly and she feels her arms being let go off and once they fall at her side, she proceeds to rub her shoulders with her hand, trying to work some of the stiffness out.

The Sheriff didn't even allow her to feel a semblance of relief as he leant forward and hissed at her: "But I'll be keeping an eye on you, leper. No one can have a past that mysterious and be innocent." His smile became diabolical and he whispered: "You are under my thumb now. No more sanctuary with Sir Edward and his meddlesome little daughter."      

And Julia knew that her troubles had just begun.

* * *

Sir Galahad opened a wooden door after showing her the healer's room. The sight that met her was a small space, not bigger than the storage room of the kitchen at her uncle's manour. There was a little strawbed contained in the room and high up on the stone wall a gridded window which let in the moonlight. 

"And this will be your chamber, if it's amenable to you," the man stated airily as if asking and seeking her approval. Julia knew that even if she wasn't amenable to the room, she would have little other choice. She gave him a smile and a small incline of her head before she passed by him and stepped into the chamber.

She had just sat down at the edge of the bed and was passing her hand on the linensheets when Sir Galahad asked her: "Why did you lie about being mute?" She looked up at him and for a moment studied him. She didn't think that he was looking at her accusingly or condescendingly. There was nothing on his handsome young face other than sheer curiosity. But Julia didn't yet know him well enough to be sure whether he didn not judge her for her ruse.

She squared her shoulders and with the most amount of reassuredness she could muster, she declared: "I did not lie. Assumptions were made and I did not care to refute them." She saw the man furrowing his brow, silently asking himself whether that was not lying. She continued, wanting to justify herself to the man who had saved her from the dungeons: "I do not deny that there was deception on my part. But when the assumption was raised, I found that letting it stand would be the best choice for my safety."

The physician shook his head at her and told her: "But you heard the Sheriff: It incriminates you that you have no voice to explain your mysterious past." She stood up and meeting his gaze head-on, she declared: "Better not to have a voice than to have a voice and still not be able to explain your background." His face fell at that, at the insinuation that her past would be something unbelievable and inexplicable. And she knew that her words incriminated her. That everything that was fantastical and inexplicable was linked to the devil and witchcraft. And that should the inkling of suspicion be on her, she would not stand a chance. 

At the same time, she was tired. So tired of being wary and suspicious all the time. And Sir Galahad with his tender smiles and his soft, green eyes was just the way child Julia had always imagined the Arthurian hero to look like. 

He wetted his upper lip and then in a slow and measured voice: "I suppose we must then take care that the Sheriff remains ignorant that you speak. And like nobility no less." He eyed her out of the corner of his eyes. And then without another word he closed the door behind him and left Julia for the night.  

* * *

The next day she was grinding some elderberry root when Sir Galahad returned from an audience with the Sheriff. 

He had not talked to her since he had left her last night and she was sure that he was regretting saving her and inadvertedly being involved in her precarious situation. 

She heard the clatter as he took off his chainmail and then she laid the morser down on th workstation and turned towards him. And in a raspy voice she told him: "I am sorry that I have involved you in this." He tucked his tunic into his breeches and looked towards her with an inexplicable gaze.

He gave a low sigh before shaking his head and stating: "As am I. But I suppose it was unpreventable, really." She swallowed but the half-smile he levelled at her calmed her immensely. "I suppose it became my destiny when you first spoke to me about the Arthurian Galahad."

And she felt her lips twist into a smile and her face softened. And for the first time in she couldn't even recall how long, she felt that she was really- _truly-_ smiling. His smile widened at the sight of her face. And before it became too much for her, Julia turned back towards the working station and continued on her task.

"I don't suppose you shall ever tell me about your past?" She didn't answer him as she felt it would be superfluous. Not only was it too unbelievable a tale. But she also didn't want to involve him anymore than she had already done. She'd feel utterly ungrateful doing so, knowing that she was only compromising him more and more. 

He scoffed behind her and muttered: "I know not even your name." And then she looked at him over her shoulders and with a gentle smile she whispered: "It's Julia." She could give him that much of her. That much she would give him. 

And even as she turned away from him, she could see his bright smile. 

* * *

Within a fortnight something akin to routine set in.

She would wake early in the mornings in her little chamber and Sir Galahad would tell her the tasks he wished her to complete that day. It would usually involve keeping the medical stock full and replenished, whether she would have to girnd herbs or plants or prepare liquid concoctions following the instruction from the physician or she would have to go to the market and purchase whatever it was that was lacking.

After completing Sir Galahad's tasks, she would sweep and clean the healer's quarter. And whenever there was a patient, she would assist her instructor. Usually the patients were guards or knights of the Sheriff's ranks who had become injured during sword practice or during the rounds in Nottinghamshire and Julia would have to help hold down the ailing men as Sir Galahad inspected their injuries.

And then when the sun had set and moonlight now lit the quarters, Sir Galahad would return from whatever business he had attended to and he would light the fireplace and they would sit before at the small, round wooden table and dine together. And the man would excitedly tell her all about medieval medicine and all that he had learned during his travels across Europe and even as far as the holy lands. And Julia would listen to the man speaking passionately with rapture. 

And eventually, they would retire for the night and then after laying herself to rest in her small chamber, the day would start all over again.

Lady Marian would call quite frequently. The day after she had been released into Sir Galahad's protection, the noblewoman had arrived at the healer's chamber. And Julia had been startled when the other woman had embraced her tightly and with relief thickening her voice stated that she was so glad that Julia was alright now. And at the sentiment, Julia felt herself thawing and she drew her arms slowly around the woman. After they had let go off each other, Lady Marian had begun ranting about the Sheriff and his wrong-doings. And Julia had kept quiet. And she'd seen Sir Galahad watching her closely at this.

Later, after Lady Marian had left, when he had asked her about it, she shook her head and explained: "The least know about this, the better." And after being able to comprehend her reasoning, Sir Galahad had nodded his head.

Despite having a routine that consisted of doing something she enjoyed and having as only company both Sir Galahad and Lady Marian who seemed to be the more inoffensive and kinder individuals of this time and place, Julia did not in any way feel less alarmed about her situation. She was painfully- _excrutiatingly-_ aware of her increased proximity to the Sheriff of Nottingham. And despite not having seen the man since he had released her into Sir Galahad's protection, she was conscious of the lingering and suspicious looks that his guards leveled at her as she crossed the halls of the castle. 

And she knew that the single, smallest misstep would be fatal to her.           

And despite Sir Galahad's soft looks and Lady Marian's ceaseless attentions, she would still go to sleep at night cursing and questioning how she had wound up in medieval England. 

* * *

She would receive something akin to an answer one morning on her way to the market. 

She could not exactly say how much time had passed since that day at that curious shop and present time, but she knew that it was unlikely she would ever forget the sight of the woman that had saved her when the alarm had sounded and who had pushed her into the mirror causing her to fall more than 800 years into the past. 

So she stood shell-shocked when she was just outside the central square of Nottingham and she saw a tall, tanned woman with a wild mane of black hair just rounding the corner. The woman came to a standstill when her eyes landed on Julia's form. From the distance, Julia could still see the woman's eyes widen and then she took off running. 

At the sight of the woman responsible for her predicament taking flight, Julia rose from her surprise and took off after her. The long skirt of her dress was no hindrance in that regard as Julia had the habit of running in the woods her uncle would take her to just on the outskirts of London in the fancy and bothersome dresses her mother and aunt insisted she wear. 

She caught up to the woman in a small and isolated alleyway that was lined on either side with the backs of huts. She gripped the woman's arms tightly, causing her to whirl towards her and between her teeth, Julia hissed: "Stop." 

They were both breathing heavily after that pursuit, standing before each other. Julia knew that she should be direct with the woman and not expect any denial from her. Not after the woman had so clearly recognized her and run from her. Shaking her head, Julia breathed: "What have you done to me?" 

The woman continued standing before her. She was quite a bit older than Julia but it was her eyes that made her seem ancient. And she was looking down at Julia impassively. Seeing that the woman had no foreseeable intention to answer her question, Julia exclaimed: "What am I doing here? Why did you send me to this... place."

She knew her eyes were frantic and desperate and that she most likely looked pitiful and on the verge of tears but Julia did not care for the bruising of her pride at that moment. She was standing before the only one who could give her any sort of explanation as to how she found herself in this ridiculous situation.

"Do you believe in fate, Julia," she flinched when the woman addressed her with her given name, though she was sure that she had never mentioned it to her. The woman took no note of her alarm and cocking her brow she insisted: "Do you?"

Swallowing past the thick lump in her throat, she shook her head and whispered: "No." The woman looked at her cooly through grey eyes and cocking her head to the side, she questioned: "And why is that?" Julia started to shake her head, disbelieving of the conversation they were having. "Can you just tell me why I'm suddenly 800 years in the past."

The woman stated coldly: "Answer my question." Julia looked towards her and then squaring her shoulders, she acquiesced, figuring that humouring the woman would be her only way to obtain an answer: "I find the concept absurd and troubling. That your whole life is written out for you before you even start existing." She shakes her head and wetting her lips, she states: "I have found too many of my life's turns to be too coincidental to believe in fate." And then she levelled a dark look at the woman and muttered: "And I have encountered too much cruelty for me to want to believe in it."

The woman continued looking at her impassively and Julia felt increasingly disquieted by her steady gaze. Then the woman said: "Well... You should then not understand any explanation any explanation I give you." And she made to turn. Seeing that she would get no more than that, Julia exclaimed desperately: "Please. Send me back." 

The woman looked over her shoulders at her almost sobbing begging. For the first time, she saw the woman's glacial eyes soften. But the woman still shook her head and stated: "I can not. Not until you have done what it is you must do." 

And with that she left. And Julia felt that she now knew even less than before. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the feedback last chapter. Please keep it coming. How am I doing with Julia, and the other character's characterisation? Are you liking the direction of the plot and the writing.  
> If you have any suggestions please dont be shy and let me know.  
> Love, Maria


	6. Part VI

_"Like they were and we scramble from the blame"- My Mistakes Were Made For You, The Last Shadow Puppets_

* * *

Lady Marian was talking to her when Sir Guy entered the healing chambers.

She saw the dark man's blue eyes light up at the sight of the noblewoman beside her. It was well-known throughout Nottighamshire that Sir Guy hoped for Lady Marian as his intended, since the Sheriff's henchman made no secrets of his affections and his courtship of the woman. It was equally well-known that Lady Marian did not reciprocate Sir Guy's affections, even going as far as finding them quite bothersome. 

From the little she had overheard citizens of Nottingham talking in the market, it was quite a topic of discussion within the populace. As well as being the object of many peasants' mocking of their torturer, Sheriff Vasey's Master-At-Arms.

Julia was left to feel entirely out-of-place, when the brooding man inclined his head with a hint of a smile on his thin, normally scowling lips and greeted: "Marian." The noblewoman in turn looked like she had just bitten into a sour lemon and reluctantly returned the greeting as was bid from her due to courtesy and diplomacy. And Julia was left to look at Sir Guy through the corner of her eyes and wonder at the man's obliviousness concerning Lady Marian's distaste of him. She wondered whether he truly did not realise something that was so glaringly obvious or whether he purposely blinded himself to the fact that the woman he favoured could not stand to remain in his company for a mere amount of time. 

Sir Guy righted himself and as he turned away from the object of his affections, his slight smile was replaced by his usual brooding and harsh demeanour as he turned slightly towards her and in a determined tone demanded: "I must see Sir Galahad. Fetch him." 

For a moment she was left without action as his address of her was abrupt and unexpected. Lady Marian stepped in at her passiveness and stated: "Sir Galahad has gone to tend to business at Knighton, Sir Guy. I'm afraid he shall not return before eve breaks." The woman was eyeing the leather-clad man with distaste at the severe demand he had directed at Julia. 

She saw Sir Guy right himself to his impressive and imposing height and he squared his shoulders, trying to equal his opposite's proud and assured stance and he declared: "That is a shame. I was due to change the bandages of my shoulder today."

At that Julia was more than happy to allow the matter to rest and have him possibly return tomorrow and have Sir Galahad deal with him. But it seemed Lady Marian had another idea as she declared: "Julia can tend to this." She looked at her friend incredulously, silently asking her why she would want to prolong the man's stay. "Her skill far surpasses the changing of bandages." She closed her eyes at Lady Marian's words and suppressed the need to shake her head.

Not wanting to contradict the object of his affections by not heeding her words, Sir Guy, still hesitantly, moved towards the cot before sitting down upon it. And Julia tried to exhale as quietly as she could faced with the fact that she would have to tend to the Sheriff's right-hand-man.

She was just gathering clean gauges from the cupboard when she felt the older woman's warm hand on her shoulder. She turned her head towards her and tried to not look too angrily at the predicament she had put Julia in. The woman gave her a soft smile and stated: "I must leave now. Father awaits me since lunchtime." She looked incredulously at the woman who intended to leave her alone with the menacing man whom Julia suspected was only kept reasonably harmless by Lady Marian's presence.

Seeing her disbelieving look, Lady Marian flashed her an apologetic look that said that Julia would receive some sort of explanation at a later time, before the woman turned and exited the healer's chambers. 

Leaving Julia alone with Sir Guy of Gisborne. She lingered at the workcounter, unwilling to turn towards the man. Until he demanded in a booming voice: "Get on with it, girl." And at the command she was left with little choice but to follow it despite bristling at his brusqueness towards her: It would not do to anger or defy the Sheriff's henchman when she was already on thin ice. And then she supposed that she should not feel any offense. She was but an unimportant peasant for him who was not even worthy of sparing a thought let alone any courtesy.

After all, in the middle ages peasants existed to be commanded and to serve. This was her fate now. 

She moved towards him holding the gauges and the ointment that Sir Galahad had prescribed for the injury Sir Guy had sustained last week during swordpractice. He had already divested himself of his black leather overcoat and as she came to a stand before him, he was proceeding to remove his equally black tunic. 

She did not allow her eyes to linger at his broad torso and hefted them onto his bandaged right shoulder. She quickly unravelled Sir Galahad's tight bindings, baring the flesh wound that Sir Guy had sustained last week. The flesh around the cut was still a little red and irritated, most likely due to the ointment, but his wound appeared to have closed appropriately and she could see no signs of infection.

She laid the used bandages to one side before opening the lid to the jar containing the sharp-smelling, green ointment that Sir Galahad used on swordcuts. And then she dipped her fingers in the creamy substance before pausing.

She would have to touch Sir Guy. Previously there had been the bandages between him and her, but now she would have to touch his bare skin. And she felt utter trepidation at that. Steeling herself, she allowed her fingers to approach his shoulder slowly, so that he could see her intent and were he adverse to it, prevent her by drawing away. But he remained in the same position and eventually her fingers reached his skin. And she proceeded to spread the ointment on. 

The flesh beneath her hand was tight and hard and she increased the pressure of her grip against the unforgiving flesh. In the midst of her ministrations, her eyes flickered up from her kneading hands and met grey ones.

Julia was surprised to find that he was looking at her, instead of staring impatiently off into the distance waiting for her to finish. And at her proximity she could see the blue specks in the eyes that she had previously believed to be steel. Unconsciously, her grip flattened against his shoulder.

Julia shook her head and looked down, as if she was bitten by a wasp and after kneading the ointment in for a few more seconds, she deemed her work satisfactory and removed her hand from him. She quickly wrapped the bandage tightly against his shoulder before standing up to dispose off his used ones without awaiting him to dismiss her.

She had her back turned to him when she heard an exhale from behind her- _as if he had been holding his breath for a long time-_ and this was followed by the buckling of iron as his put his armour back on. And the last thing she heard before she was left in utter silence until Sir Galahad's arrival was the door being banged shut behind her. 

* * *

She listened to him patiently as he ranted: "The water supply is foul. I dared to scoop out one handful and it was yellow. And then Lord Graham wonders why his peasants seem all to be dying from infection." Sir Galahad shook his head and his locks of hair emphasised the motion, almost underlining his anger and frustation.

She was shaking her head and she supposed that he must have found her look at him funny when he looked up at her from his soup as he asked: "What is it, Julia?"

She shrugged her shoulders and in a low tone voiced her thoughts: "I just wonder why a man such as you would be in the Sheriff's service." At her words, his green eyes got a far-away look in them and the right-hand corner of his lips quirked up in a humourless half-smile. He scoffed before looking back down at his dinner and wearily, as if he was carrying an enormous burden, stated: "It is not by choice. I assure you."

He looked back up at her and with the most impassive gaze he proceeded to tell her: "My father was a good man. A fair and just man." He looked at her with utmost confidence, as if to convince her but she trusted Sir Galahad and believed his declaration. She knew _him_ to be a just and fair man and so had utter trust in his word. "Under his stewardship, Falmouth estate flourished. My youth is embossed with memories of plenty and prosperity and happiness. My father treated those who worked and lived in his estate fairly. He did not take advantage of their inferior position. He only took that which by right was ours." During his narration Sir Galahad's face had been sporting the most charming smile and Julia found herself envious that he would remember his youth so fondly.

"You must know that my mother passed away during childbirth. On that night, my father not only lost his wife but also his daughter who was stillborn. You must imagine that it affected greatly," his face became more gloomy at that. And sadder. Much sadder. "Unlike many others, my father did not become cruel or bitter. But he did channel his grief at his lost family towards gambling." Julia lowered her head, being able to imagine the way the story would go now: "He became very indebted to our very own Sheriff Vasey. And after my father decided he could no stand living with that, I inherited that debt."

He looked up from his half-finished plate of soup. And giving her a sad smile, he concluded: "That is how I find myself in the Sheriff's service, Julia."

She knew that he longed to know her story, how she found herself in the Sheriff's service. And she felt indebted to him. Not because he had saved her from the dungeons. More because he had shared his tragic story with her. And she felt that it was only fair for her to share her tragedy with him.

"My father passed away when I was but an infant," she could feel his green eyes looking at her intently as she started her tale. She would give something back to him. "I do not believe to this day that my mother has recovered from it. My father's death destroyed her." And Julia started to recall the sobbing she would hear coming from her mother's room at night. And the glass bottle of amber liquid had mother had nursed constantly during that time.

"My eldest brother served as a great consolation to my mother. My youngest brother and I always reminded her too greatly of our father," she could not even muster to sound or feel bitter. She had transcended those feelings of resentment a long time ago. When the war had come and her brother had enlisted as a soldier and been deported to fight in France. And her mother had still not cared for her or her little brother.

Julia had learned that to resent something or somebody you still had to hope that the circumstance would change favourably.

She looked up to find him looking at her sadly and she shook her head and admonished him severely: "Do not look at me like that. I do not wish for your pity, Sir Galahad." He averted his eyes, as if feeling properly admonished and at that sight, she softened her voice: "You should not pity me. I did not have a bad childhood. My uncle bestowed upon me more kindness and guidance than I could have ever hoped for without sounding petulant." She shook her head and whispered: "For me to complain about my childhood would be a great disservice to him." She shook her head and whispered: "I already do him enough disservice."

At his questioning look she explained: "My uncle has developed a sickness of the mind." She swallowed drily. "On his best days he cannot recall my name or face." She heard him breathe 'Oh Julia' at the sight of her distress. And she did not care to mask her sadness at the state of her uncle. Because she had to watch her dearest companion, the person she loved most in this world disintegrate before her eyes.

"I have abandoned him when he needed me the most," she voiced that which distressed her most about this current situation. If it were only her fears of the time and for her safety that plagued her mind, Julia would not find herself that pained. It was more the fact that she had abandoned both her uncle and her little brother. And she had responsibilities to them. Ones she did not wish to run from. 

"Why do you not go back to him," she heard Sir Galahad state softly and Julia gave a dry scoff at that. "I cannot," she whispered thickly.

"Why," she heard him breathe softly and she shook her head once more.

"I do not even know."

* * *

"Do not look at me in that manner, Sir Guy. She has not told me anything," the younger physician told him as he joined him by his side after exiting the Council of Nobles. He had not previously associated with Sir Galahad, Guy had always found him too entitled and too fixated on such things as morals which in the times they lived in were only cumbersome and pesky things. 

But after thinking about a solution to Marian's request he had found that the castle physician who was taking long strides beside him- no doubt to get away as quickly as he could from the man whom he made no secret he disproved of- was a perfect instrument to orchestrate his solution. And thus Sir Guy had made an offer to both Sir Galahad and to the Sheriff. It was one of his more ingenious schemes and having thought it up made him feel utterly proud of himself. After discovering that night when both him and Sir Galahad had gone down to the dungeons that the girl had deceived them and was in truth not mute at all, he'd informed the Sheriff. 

The man in turn had wanted to punish the girl for her deceit. And Sir Guy had had to entreat into his superior's curious streak to stop the Sheriff from scheduling the girl's execution for the next morrow. Why, he'd reasoned, had a woman appeared out of thin air in Nottinghamshire when the plans for the Black Knights had just been set in motion. And she wasn't even a simple peasant. No, from the crisp and polished tone of her voice, it was more than obvious that this girl was anything but a peasant. 

The Sheriff had then thought to torture the truth out of her-  _to make the little dove sing-_ but Sir Guy had reasoned that the girl was too proud and too stubborn and whatever secrets she held close to her heart she would take to her grave. Unless... there was someone she trusted. There was a sentimentality to her, despite her cold and hard eyes. Guy had seen it that night in the dungeon when the first words he'd ever heard that soft voice mutter were of the Arthurian hero Sir Galahad. And he knew she'd trust blindly in a friend who truly won her heart. 

And so he'd convinced the Sheriff to release the girl into Sir Galahad's care. She would be the physician's apprentice. And in the meantime, Sir Galahad with his candid and just demeanour would worm his way into her heart. And he'd discover the truth behind her sudden appearance. 

The physician in question had at first refused the scheme as Sir Guy had expected him to. Sir Galahad had always been much too self-righteous and too principled to deceive anyone, especially a girl who he viewed as so young and innocent and 'without a single bad or negative cell in her body'. At the man's vehement denials, Sir Guy had only slowly smirked and crossed his arms over his chest. In his thirty-five years of life, if there was something Guy had learned it was that every man, no matter how virtuous or good or pure, had their price. 

And it only so happened that Sir Guy knew exactly what Sir Galahad's price would be. And as expected by him, the man's protests had been silenced when Sir Guy had told him that his cooperation would result in the absolvation of his father's debts. And that Sir Galahad would be able to return to Falmouth as soon as the girl's secrets had come to light. And that his twenty-year-servitude to the Sheriff of Nottingham would be rendered void. 

"I fear that even if she did, you would not tell me," he muttered darkly and knowingly beside him. This caused the fair-haired physician to pause in his strides. Guy also came to a stop and turned towards him. The righteous man was looking down at his booted feet, his lips twisted into an unhappy scowl. And Sir Guy shook his head at the sentiment of the man. Unbiddenly, Marian's words when she was bidding for her friend's freedom came to mind. But before he allowed himself to dwell on them, he shook his head as if chasing away some pesky fly. 

"We had a deal, Galahad," Guy entreated darkly. And that seemed to fuel the man in question and looking up, he spat in a lowered and hushed tone: "I do not know what you expect of me truly. I can not give you information where there is none." Sir Guy cocked his head and remaining as calm and collected as previously, he drawled: "I only wish to ensure that your loyalty remains with the correct party." 

The physician gave him a long look. And perhaps Sir Guy should have felt worried because the affection the younger man felt towards the girl were clear to him. But he knew that for numerous years his position and his father's inheritance were Sir Galahad's biggest torments in life. And despite fiercely claiming the opposite, he and Sir Galahad were similar in the respect that they both would give everything even their lives' blood to right what had destroyed their lives in boyhood. 

No more words were exchanged between the men as Sir Galahad abruptly departed. Sir Guy watched as the man crossed the rest of the hall and then descended the stairs into the court. Taking a long stride, Sir Guy kept watching the man's trajectory over the stone-ledge. And as if fate had intervened, the girl entered the courtyard through the gates leading to the city of Nottingham. He watched Sir Galahad approach her with eager steps. 

And even from his distance up in the castle, he could see her bright smile as her eyes laid themselves upon the form of the physician. And as the two healers finally met in the middle of the courtyard, Guy remembered small and thin ivory fingers twitching once, twice,  _three times,_ against the skin of his shoulders. 

Twitching as if in a silent promise. 

Guy turned away and started to make his way to the Sheriff's office.

* * *

Julia was just in the process of storing away the chamomile Sir Galahad had ordered two days ago in the upmost shelf of the cupboard when the door was opened behind her in a brutish manner. 

Dread settled in her stomach as she recalled the last person who had handled the door to the healer's chambers in such a brusque manner and as Julia turned around her worst fears were confirmed. Sir Guy was stalking towards her and before she could even recover from her surprise and trepidation at his announced and sudden arrival, he had already grippe her upper arm.

She had no chance to defend herself from him. She'd always been a small and frail thing much to her chagrin and Sir Guy was the exact opposite to her- in numerous ways. She was match to his strength and Julia cringed inwardly at the thought that pulling her along was probably no exertion to the man whatsoever.

And so she had little choice but to stand him pulling her behind him none too gently. Resisting would only be wasted breath. Yet she could not help but feel utterly alarmed at where he was taking her. 

They arrived at the entrance of the castle and as the Sheriff was standing at the edge towards the stairs leading down into the courtyard which was filled with people in grey and light brown dresses and breeches and with their faces dirty and their cheeks sunken in.

As soon as they stood beside the Sheriff, Sir Guy brusquely let go off her arm, nearly throwing her arm away from him as if touching her was a personal offense against him. The Sheriff, clad in a dark and bulky armour which was meant to make him look intimidating but only managed to dwarf his small form, turned towards them at their arrival and gave her a slow and malicious smirk.

"Ah Gizzy. Just in time," the Sheriff stated in mock-jubilation. And then he turned back towards the courtyard and Julia followed his gaze. And she felt her form freeze when she saw the structure that was located in the middle of the yard. An elevated platform shot up between the sea of people in grey and brown cotton. And upon the wooden structure was a pylon and from this pylon hung a thick cord. And this cord was in a noose around the neck of a man. And another man clad in a dark hood, who frankly looked the stuff of her most frightening childhood nightmares, was standing beside the pylon, his gloved hands ominously resting upon a lever.

"Robert Smith of Nettlestone Village, you have been tried and found guilty of theft to the Crown. The punishment for such a fealony is to hang by the neck until death," the Sheriff drawled with an infuriatingly bored tone to his voice as if he was a tutor reading something he found incredibly tedious to an unmotivated pupil. She felt her jaws slacken as she looked towards the poor man in question. And she saw his sunken cheeks and his haggardness and surely some of it had to do with his time in the dungeon but Julia felt as if his thinness had resulted from years and years of hunger and necessity. And she could well figure out what the man had been trying to steal when the guards had caught him.

She saw the hooded executioner start to pull the lever and not wanting to witness this man's unjust death, she turned her head away from the scene and closed her eyes tightly, not to allow a single glimpse of the horrendous scene in. But then she felt a strong, almost painful, leather grip on the nape of her neck. And the strength behind it caused her eyes to open. She turned her head towards the side to look at the man who had dragged her to this nightmare. But his grip tightened and he forced her head to look straight and towards the horrific structure.

Her eyes were wide as she watched the executioner pull the lever almost painfullly slowly. And she felt his warm breath against the shell of her ear as he whispered: "Watch. The Sheriff is watching you."

And she had no other choice but to watch the executioner pull the lever. And for the latch to open beneath the man's feet. And for him to fall through the latch. And for the rope to tighten audibly.

It was surprising to her how quickly it was over. The executioner pulling the lever down had stretched infinitely long. But then from one second to the next, the man who had previously been alive was now dead with his neck snapped in half and his feet swinging slowly to and fro.

And she was as if hypnotized by the motion. She did not even notice that the henchman's grip removed itself when the Sheriff seemed satisfied with what she had witnessed.

The swinging of the dead man's feet were hypnotic and she did not know how much time passed with her eyes transfixed by the notion. She felt a tug on her as if she was being pulled again, roughly by her arm, the way she had arrived.

The sight of the swinging legs were gone and slowly the almost comforting haze was lifted from her. And to replacing it, a nausea started to take hold of her. A sort of frantic nausea where your stomach churns and your insides feel as if they are being wrenched and you feel completely breathless.

And then when she felt herself being pushed and she through watery eyes realised that she was back in the healer's chambers, she was desperately trying to hold in her keening sobs. Because despite all that, she was aware that Sir Guy of Gisborne was still behind her. And to demonstrate any weakness to the Sheriff or anyone associated with him would do her no good.

She sat down on the patient's cot, trying to hold in her tears but it caused her to take several shaky and unnecessary gasps of breath and had she been in her correct faculty of mind she would've realised that this was just as bad as dissolving into tears before the dark and brooding Master-At-Arms. But she wasn't in her correct faculty of mind.

Because this was the first time she had ever seen someone being murdered before her eyes- the soldiers she treated at the hospital all passed away in their sleep succumbing to their injuries and due to morphine it was never as abrupt and violent as what she had just seen- and she was desperately trying to show Sir Guy and effectively the Sheriff that she was not affected.

"You shouldn't grieve for the man so. His death was kind," and she felt disgust- true, unadultered, caustic disgust at the man's blase and cynical words. "His death was quick. Now burning. That is a cruel, horrible death. Slow and painful." Her gasps stopped and she looked up to see him giving her a hard look.

And she realised that he was challenging her. All of this was a challenge- the display, the forcing and the barely veiled threat. Him and the Sheriff were trying to back her into a corner and to poke at her with a stick. They believed her to be a soft little dove who at the merest gust of wind was swept away.

But in all their arrogance they had forgotten that even a dove could poke an eye out.

Slowly, she let go off herself. And then in the proudest, most self-assured manner she could, she rose. And she held his blue eyes levelly.

And despite the fact that he was surely more than a foot taller than her, she held his gaze at the same level as she proudly raised her chin.

And then after a few seconds, she turned away from him and stalked back towards the working station and she continue putting the chamomile into the glass jars as she had been doing before he arrived and took her away.

She didn't see his eyes widen with surprise at her actions. And she didn't see something indescirnable flash in his eyes before he turned and fled as if Greek Furies were chasing him.

All she heard was the sound of the door being banged shut behind her before her knees buckled and she dissolved in a fit of sobs on the floor.          

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok lots happening in this chapter. Please tell me what you thought and thanks to everyone supporting this story inform of feedback and kudos.  
> Love, Maria


	7. Part VII

_"And it's the fame that put words in her mouth"- My Mistakes Were Made For You, The Last Shadow Puppets_

* * *

Lady Marian was clearly perturbed when she came to call on Julia that morning.

Despite being quite fond of the woman and thankful for the blind support she had bestowed upon Julia during her first days in the Middle Ages, Julia had to suppress the urge to roll her eyes at the sight of the incensed woman entering the chambers with a pinched expression on her beautiful face. 

Julia was tired. She had not caught a wink of sleep last night as the memories of the execution kept replaying themselves vividly as if before her eyes. And she found herself with very little patience for what was going to be her friend's complaints. _It was probably again something about Sir Guy of Gisborne and his unwanted attentions towards her,_ Julia thought as she waited for Lady Marian to stop huffing and start talking to her. 

She remembered herself and wiping her face of any tiredness or exasperation it was likely to show, she bestowed her attention to Lady Marian while leaning on the broom she had been using to clean the chambers with.

Lady Marian with an angry expression on her face turned towards her and with indignation and distaste dripping from her every word, revealed the source of her anger: "My father wishes for me to consider marrying Sir Guy."

Julia blinked once, twice but showed no other reaction other than that.

"With his recent behaviour it is clear to both myself and my father that a proposal from him is not far off. And considering his position my father believes that I should not be as disinclined towards him as I currently am," Lady Marian explained, growing more miserable with every word she uttered.

Julia nodded her head mindlessly. Lady Marian had a very keen sense of justice and she would condemn anyone who commited something she was opposed on a moral level.

Julia's opposite was looking down with a miserable expression on her face and Julia realised how young the woman actually was. Lady Marian's behaviour and carriage of herself always made Julia believe that she was so much older than Julia herself when in truth there were only two years separating them. Seeing Lady Marian so vulnerable reinforced that fact to Julia's mind.  

She whispered sadly and with a hint of longing: "I was previously intended to Robin of Locksley. I always believed that my wedding day would be a joyous one." And despite being loathe to show anyone pity, Julia felt her face soften.

"You are so fortunate that you are never to be prevailed upon to marry someone you loathe," Lady Marian stated passionately. 

And Julia felt her eyes glaze over.

* * *

_It was the night of her mother's annual dinner where she would invite the families of London's upper society to dine at their house._

_Julia was holding onto her wooden bedpost as Mrs. McKellan, her mother's maid, was fastening the strings of the corset her mother insisted she wear under the dress that her mother had picked out for her._

_"Not so tight, Mrs. McKellan," Julia whispered as she rested her hand below her ribcage and took a shuddering breath against the asphyxiating binds of the contraption._

_"It was your mother's request, Miss Julia," the maid explained apologetically and again Julia felt herself being jolted backwards as the woman pulled on the strings._

_She gave an inaudible wince but tightened her jaw, seeing that she would have to endure it. She didn't know how her mother and the other young ladies her age could stand spending the whole day wearing a corset when she was already dreading the few hours this evening. Julia supposed that endurance might come with habit: Julia was only used to wearing the cotton and loose nurses' uniform of the hospital she worked in._

_She heard the door to her room open behind her and Julia looked over her shoulder- with great difficulty due to the corset- to see her mother entering her room._

_When young, Julia had always looked at her mother with unbridled admiration. To her eyes, the woman was flawlessly beautiful. And objectively speaking, her mother was still without a doubt a beautiful woman. But to Julia she was no longer that pinnacle of handsomeness she had hoped to come close to one day. And perhaps that had something to do with Julia's resentment of the woman and their no-doubt strained relationship._

_When looking at her mother, she couldn't help but note that despite all her handsomeness there was a glacialness to her beauty. And Julia remained unsure whether she found that at all appealing._

_With a raised chin her mother enquired: "I have heard that you received a visit from the young Mr. Watson on Wednesday, Julia." She had turned back towards her bedpost and she raised her brows at her mother's directness. It shouldn't have surprised Julia. She knew that her mother would hear of Tony Watson's visit sooner rather than later. And considering her satisfaction with his advances towards Julia, she knew that her mother would be keen on knowing about the visit._

_She inclined her head and whispered: "Indeed he did." She could practically hear the eagerness drip from her mother's words as she inquired: "What did he wish to discuss with you?"_

_Raising her head despite the bindings being tightened painfully, Julia stated as levelly as she could, not letting her anticipation at the discussion that was likely to ensue between them: "He asked for my hand in marriage."_

_The woman squealed in delight behind her and Julia tightened her grip on the wooden bedpost and closed her eyes. Before her mother could start discussing wedding plans with her, Julia stated resolutely, indicating that her words were not subject to discussion: "I refused him, mother."_

_Deathly silence met her declaration and were it not for the frostiness she felt coming from behind her, Julia would have questioned whether her mother was still in the room or had somehow evaporated at the revelation of Julia's answer._

_"Why," the woman muttered darkly after a few seconds of tense silence having stretched between them. Julia took a deep breath ad started- now slightly cautious at truly witnessing the woman's displeased demeanour: "I would have been a trophy for Anthony Watson, mother. He wished for a wife that would obey him blindly and would lead his household. I believe I did us both a favour by recognizing that I did not fulfill those requirements."_

_The woman spat: "Both your Aunt Margaret and I have taught you everything that you need to know about leading a household. You are very well suited to his wants for a wife." She can't whirl around to her mother as she wishes because the contraption is still being tied to her. So Julia settles for looking over her shoulders and exclaiming: "Then perhaps he is not suited to my wants for a husband."_

_She continues despite her mother's wrathful look and displeased sneer: "He was cruel and mean-spirited as a child and he continues to be so even as an adult. I do not love him nor will I ever grow to love him."_

_Her mother's scowl widens and she accuses: "I always knew that having your nose buried in those books too much as a child would make you silly and fanciful as an adult. Have you still not overcome those childish fantasies of yours." And Julia thinks darkly that she has. She has most definitely overcome any of her innocent imaginings. And if her mother cared an inkling for her she would have most definitely known this._

_"I loved your father and look where that has gotten me: Abandoned," her mother states- now almost desperate and Julia can still hear the grief that the woman has never managed to overcome._

_Julia scoffs and states softly: "Abandonement implies that he left willingly. My father had no choice, mother." And she sees the woman's face fall with grippling sadness and at the miserable expression on her mother's face that makes the beautiful, cold woman look positively bereaved, Julia turns away from her and grits her teeth._

_Guilt starts spreading in her gut and she hears her mother state coldly: "Mrs. McKellan please leave us. I shall conclude the bindings on Julia's corset."  
_

_Her mother stepped behind her and if Julia had thought that the maid's tieing was rough, it was incomparable to her mother's._

_Her mother declared punctuating every word with the pull of the cotton strings that felt like knifestabs to her ribcage: "You will reconsider."_

_And it was no longer only the corset which made Julia feel like she was trapped._

* * *

She looked towards the older woman who now positively had tears in her eyes at the thought of having to marry a man she despised and would despise for the rest of her life simply for his existence. 

There was nothing she could do. So Julia rested her hand on the woman's shoulder, letting the woman dwell in the belief that she was offered sympathy from someone who could not fathom what it felt like being in this situation.

* * *

Sir Galahad asked her to go to the market this morning to purchase some valerian root. It was sunny and pleasantly warm despite autumn steadily approaching, as indicated by the browning leaves and the warm smell of decay that wafted past her when she took a walk in the untended-to gardens of the castle.

So Julia found that she was quite enjoying frequenting the market this morning. It was her duty as Sir Galahad's apprentice to do as he bid, but she often found that going to the market only made her return with a bitter taste in her mouth.

She remembered having a young, pretty, brown-haired teacher who had taught her history in Grammar school. She remembered the young woman lecturing about the colliseum and the gladiators in Ancient Rome, about the Olympic Games in Ancient Greece.

There had been a semester where her teacher had lectured about Medieval Times. And one thing Julia could still remember from it was the wide-spread superstition that often decided the behaviour of the medieval people.

Even if Julia did not remember her teacher's history classes when she was only ten, she would have soon enough found out that people in this time were anything but kind to those with disabilities.

Lady Marian hd told her that beneath the bridge leading to the fortress surrounding Nottingham were sat 'the lames', 'the blindes' and 'the cripples' and that should they venture up the citizens would be outraged. Because they believed that these disfigurations and deficiencies were punishments for living in sin. And that god looked down upon the deficients due to their 'foul souls'.

And all that hatred was focused upon her since her first visit to the market where she had to gesture to that which she had to buy and people had figured that she couldn't speak. And since then she would have to walk through the market and hear those venomous and hateful, ignorant hisses. And she tried the best she could to just bite her tongue, stride through the market and complete her chores as quickly as she could.

But even with the knowledge of the animosity she would face quite soon, Julia couldn't muster any bad mood because she was walking down the castle and it was so warm that she decided to pull down the sleeves of her dress and allow the early autumn sun to shine down on her bare shoulders.

She didn't even take the mistrustful and distasteful looks that the peasants shot her into consideration as she strolled through the stands lined with vibrantly coloured fruits and vegetables towards the herb stands.

Her calm was suddenly disturbed by a loud and booming voice and her head, which had been previously slightly tilted back because she was trying to take in as much sun as she could knowing that winter was steadily approaching, snapped down and towards the source of the sound.

There were a few people who had also stopped and where watching the scene which was unfolding before her. An older, beefy man with a red face that reminded Julia of her aunt's old pitbull had a young was holding a young, dishevelled and very thin-looking boy by the collar of his tattered shirt. The man was shaking him so forcefully that Julia feared the boy would get hurt by the movement.

"Little thief," the man spat and he was so angry that he was drolling and little globs of spit were flying everywhere as he spoke. In turn, the young boy, he couldn't be older than ten- _he couldn't be much older than little Finnegan-_  and he looked absolutely terrified.

And despite knowing that there was little she could do, because she was barely taller than the ten-year-old boy, she found herself striding towards the scene very quickly. And maybe it's because the little boy looks so much like the brother she hasn't seen for more than a year since she put him on that train and had to bite her lips as she watched him driving away and into the safety of Cornwall, and she was much too young to have to go through something that made her feel such loss. Maybe it's because of all that that she forgot herself and as she saw the man raising his hand to hit down the boy, her hand snapped up and she held his massive arm, stopping its descent.

The man was so startled by her appearance and because of that- only because of that- he let the boy go quite easily when she tugged him back. The boy in turn made use of the opportunity that had been given to him and quickly scrambled away from the angry man and hid behind her, clutching at her skirt.

The merchant seemed to recover from his surprise and with a dark look, his beady eyes were narrowed into slits, he ordered: "Get out of the way, girl." She tightened her jaw and continued looking at him with a severe look and he seemed to understand what it meant: She wouldn't retreat.

The man was growing visibly more agitated and bellowed: "I said get out of the way, girl." And he shook his arm free as it had been still suspended mid-air, held up by her hand. And he was so strong that she was almost taken off her feet by him. But she managed to catch her balance and she continued standing there.

His eyes narrowed even further and he was now huffing and puffing in his anger as his nostrils flared and he hissed: "Seems like I'll 'ave to touch you a lesson as well." And then he raised his hand again and she knew that she had only stopped him before due to the fact that her stepping-in had been unexpected and that she could now never hope to stop the blow.

And just as his hand was close to hit her she closed her eyes and awaited the impact.

But nothing came. And her eyes were still closed but still nothing came.

Tentatively, she opened them and was surprised to find that the man who had been red-faced in anger was now looking quite pale. His fist was again suspended mid-air, this time held up by a black leather-clad arm. And she looked to her side and her eyes widened as she saw Sir Guy of Gisborne standing there. And his look was murderous. She had always known that people feared him. But only now was she aware of how much he must terrify them.

The Sheriff of Nottingham was truly fortunate to have such an imposing and terrifying figure as him by his side. And they were all quite unfortunate due to that same fact.

"What is the meaning of this," she heard Sir Guy lowly mutter while still levelling that terrifying look at the merchant. At the sight of Sir Guy, the previously so angry and entitled man had been reduced to a blubbering and nervous mess as he stammered: "Sir... Sir Guy... Just... Nothing really... Just a little thieving rat and a wilfull bitch."

The leather-clad hand tightened its grip on the merchant's arm and from the resultant twisting of the man's face, the pressure Sir Guy must have been applying now was quite painful. "That wilfull bitch is the apprentice of Sir Galahad of Falmouth. She is under his protection and I'm sure that he would be none too happy to see her harmed by you."

"She... She was disrupting my punishment of that little thieving rat... I had no choice... I told her to get away..." the man continued to stammer, obviously quite alarmed by Sir Guy's low and cold tone.

The man continued: "She is disobedient. I'm sure Sir Galahad would approve of me teaching her a lesson." Something flashed in Sir Guy's icy grey eyes and he stepped forwards and hissed: "It is not for you to decide what Sir Galahad approves of or not." And then he was leaning his towering height down to the gasping man and now visibly angry whispered: "If I ever see you so much as contemplating harming a hair of that head of hers, I will break your jaw." And then he let go off the man's arms and Julia saw the man's knees buckle as if SIr Guy's hold on him was the only thing holding him up.

But she didn't have time to see whether the man fell unconscious after having been on the receiving end of Sir Guy's threats because suddenly there was a tight grip on her arm and she was almost wrenched off her feet as Sir Guy proceeded to pull her with him.

It took her a second to collect herself. By then they had already left the main market and Sir Guy was storming in the direction of the castle. As she caught herself, Julia proceeded to pull against him.

Feeling her resistance caused the dark and tall man to stop in his tracks and he let go off her for a second as he whirled around with a swish of his dark robes. And then he had gripped her by the shoulders and through gritted teeth he asked: "What were you thinking?" For a second she was caught off guard by the question. She hadn't been thinking. The boy had looked so much like Finnegan and she missed Finnegan so much and she just couldn't let that man hurt him.

She would never tell him any of this- _she couldn't-_ so she simply exhaled through her nose once and continued to hold his gaze. 

"He would've killed you with that blow had it hit," Sir Guy spat in her face and she wondered why he was so angry or agitated. But she decided not to dwell on this and instead levelled a dark look at him that stated quite clearly 'I didn't ask for your help.'

And then he shook her and she didn't let his force rattle her but continued looking into his eyes. And he exclaimed: "Foolish, headstrong girl."

And then Julia noticed that they were close. They were both breathing heavily and their breaths mingled, they were so close.

And for a fraction of a second, it was so quick Julia wondered if it had even been real, he was not shaking her and his eyes flickered to her lips. And the angry look seemed to thaw off.

But then as quickly as that moment had come it went away again. He let go off her, as if she repulsed him and turned on his heel continuing to storm up to Nottingham castle. And Julia watched him until he was out of sight.

* * *

Sheriff Vasey was talking to him in hushed tones questioning Sir Edward's loyalty after the Council of Nobles. Vasey had suggested raising the autumn harvest taxes for the farmers, as they needed more money to fund the new armours for the Black Knights, and Sir Edward had- predictably, Sir Guy thought- protested vehemently against it, while his daughter from her position behind his chair aimed a disgusted look towards both himself and the Sheriff.

He was leaning against the railings when amidst Vasey's babble- he was so self-absorbed that he didn't even notice that Guy was not really listening to him- Lady Marian's voice drifted up to him. Almost on reflex, he looked over his shoulders and down into the courtyard to see the woman in question strolling arm-in-arm with Sir Galahad's apprentice.

_Julia._

Despite disproving of Marian having befriended a peasant and being so fond of her due to the woman's position, he found that he understood why Marian was so fond of her. 

The two women were very similar. Both seemed to have a sense of justice and a self-sacrificial nature to stand for what they believed in that Sir Guy could only marvel at. And Guy knew that Marian was fond of those who shared her beliefs. He could understand then how Lady Marian had come to love the girl. 

Lady Marian was talking incessantly to the girl, perhaps telling her of the absurb and exploitative schemes of the Sheriff and the girl listened patiently. Guy continued observing them as they made their way through the gardens. 

Sir Edward encountered them, just coming out of the courtyard and nodded towards Sir Galahad's apprentice before talking to Marian. The woman gave a single nod to what her father had said to her before she dislodged her arm from the girl's. She took her hands in both of hers and gave her a fond smile and Guy found himself wishing to be in the girl's place.

And then Lady Marian left and Sir Guy was about to turn back to Vasey because whatever happened below had completely lost it appeal to him. But he was stopped from doing so when he saw the girl quite obviously spot something. She was looking to her side toward the shrubbery and whatever she discovered caused a bright smile to light her face and- _he had never seen that smile, she was always so grave and severe in his presence with that perpetual sad look in her eyes-_ Sir Guy found himself watching her approach the shrubs with a renewed fascination. 

He saw her lean down and pick something from the shrubs. And then when she righted herself once morehe squinted his eyes. She was too far away from him and he couldn't see properly but he believed that there was a small, white blossom in her hands.

And she smiled- like a child- because she has found the last blossom of the year. And Guy raises his hand to his chest as an unfamiliar warmth spreads through it. And then as if he was bitten by a wasp, he wrenches his eyes away from her- _from that smile-_ and looks back towards Vasey. 

* * *

 


	8. Part VIII

_"She couldn't help but spit 'em out innocence and arrogance entwined in the filthiest of minds"- My Mistakes Were Made For You, Last Shadow Puppets_

* * *

_She had loved previously._

_One thing her novels and stories had always taught her was that there was no pattern or frame to love. There was no rigid and set guidelines and rules as to who one may love. If there was one rhing her stories taught her it was that love came in different shapes and sizes._

_Some loved too Little. Some too much._

_Some loved often. And some only once._

_She had loved previously. It was no great lovestory. Not like Dante Aligieri's to his Beatrice. Her love would not inspire eternal tales and beautiful words._

_But it had been significant-_ to her _\- that she had locked those memories with that Rrench soldier in her heart and would recall them whenever she felt lonely or saddened._

_All had started when a troupe of French soldiers had been delivered to the hospital Julia had been working in at the time after they had been injured some ten miles outside of London during a German airraid. And since the French had been Britain's allies since the onset of the war, they had been found worthy of being used British resources on._

_As a result, the hospital was flooded with patients and they were completely understaffed. In Julia's ward alone there were some five, heavily injured Frenchman. The unexpected patients resulted in the staff needing to take on extra shifts and so Julia would be long hours into the night working._

_That was something her mother was not at all pleased by, especially since she had always considered Julia's occupation as not befitting for a woman of her daughter's standing in polite society._

_It was during one of those shifts when Julia was tending to a French soldier who had needed to have his leg amputated after a German bomb had positively torn it to shreds. She had been wiping the moaning man's feverish skin and shaking her head slightly as she realised that he did not have much more time amongst the living._

_As she righted herself from her bowed position she felt a set of eyes on her back. And in response to that, she looked over her shoulders and straight into cobalt green eyes._

_Eyes so green she had only heard such described in fairy tales._

_She did not know how much time they spent simply looking into each other's eyes._

_And then he whispered in a raspy, broken voice: "Some water, please, Mademoiselle."_

_As she helped him sit up and put the cup to his lips, she allowed herself to study him more. Half of his head was heavily bandaged as he had sustained a serious head injury during the air raid that had brought his troup to her Hospital. Yet despite the bandage, she coud still recognize that he was very young- her age... if he was her senior than only by two years._

_And she grew grieved that someone so young would be so heavily involved in the war._

_Then she recalled,_ she _was involved in the war._

_They all were._

_He put his burned hand ontop of hers and detecting his silent plea she moved the cup away from his lips. This would have been the moment she rose, put the cup away and continued on her round in the ward._

_But instead she asked- her French broken as her uncle's lessons had declined in frequency as his health deteriorated: "Are you very far from home, Monsieur?"  The corner of his lips that was visible quirked up and he whispered: "I come from a little village just outside of  Calais. Not as far as some of my comrades. But still far enough."_

_She nodded her head pensively and answered to his statement, feeling that she needed to somehow despite the fact that he had not asked her a question: "Indeed. I do not believe I have ever been so far from home."_

_Green eyes became soft... And she felt her heart do a funny jump in her chest. It startled her so greatly that she raised her hand to her chest above the spot she imagined her heart to sit. "Calais is loud and industrial and dirty. But my village is charming. I believe you would like it." And despite the absurdity of hearing such a personal statement from someone she had barely exchanged two sentences with, Julia felt herself smile._

_He continued peering up at her and he asked: "Did you plan to go to the City hall Dance coming Saturday?" She looked down and shrugging her shoulders, she confessed: "I must be honest and say that I do not enjoy such gatherings exceedingly. But I believe the other nurses would have insisted."_

_He chuckled minutely and stated: "It would have been the same with me. My comrades would have forced me to go. And perhaps we would have met there. And I would have asked you to dance."_

_And that's what her love had been: Soft, whispered conversations at midnight in her ward. Warm, tender looks._

_And she knew it would not last._

_Despite allowing him in her heart to take up a spot that would be his-_ always his- _she had steeled herself._

_And thus she only felt a muted pang of loss when she arrived to her ward one morning to find his bed empty._

_She did not go to Calais._

_And she would never see his village._

_Despite his relative's invite, she did not feel as if she had the right to be at his burial._

* * *

When Sir Galahad announced to her that he had to take his leave for a fortnight to sort out some business in Cornwall, he might as well have given her a death sentence.

A cold shiver of dread ran up her spine during his words as she imagined herself alone in Nottingham Castle. Alone, only with the Sheriff and his henchman as her companions. And she knew that the only thing that stopped the odious man of swooping down on her like a vulture was that she was under the Castle physician's protection as his apprentice.

"Take me with you," she turned around and looked up at the man who had stopped midsentence at her outburst and was looking at her with wide eyes and an astonished expression. She elaborated, alarm gripping her: "He shall not hesitate to kill me without you here." 

His eyes softened as he seemed to understand the motivation behind her words and he whispered: "Julia... You are still under my protection, despite my absence... The Sheriff shall not..."

She scoffed, disbelieving at his naiveté: "You do not truly believe your own words."

He looked at her and his face adopted an expression that seemed lost. And she looked up pleadingly at the man who had saved her once in these dark times, silently begging him to do so again.

He looked down, unable to continue looking at her pleading expression and he whispered: "I cannot take you with me." 

She recoiled and did not care to hide her hurt expression at being rejected by the man who had come to mean so much to her.

He did not look at her. He refused to look at her. So he saw none of this.   

"He will not harm you. I shall ask Lady Marian and Sir Edward to keep watch over you. Not that they wouldn't have done so anyhow." And Julia saw those words for what they were. He gave them as if he was a parent explaining to their child why he would not give them the toy they had asked for. And were he a different person and did Julia not have the Feelings in her heart that she had for Sir Galahad, she would have positively hated him for his condescension. 

"Just please come back as soon as you can," she spoke out her last plea at him.

The next morning when dew still surrounded them like a heavy fog, she watced him saddle his horse and ride away.

And her stomach twisted as she recalled a morning similar to this eons ago when she was too saying goodbye to a loved one. It was when her eldest brother was going off to war. 

They would receive a phone call about his death exactly three month later.

* * *

It did not take long for the Sheriff to come for her.

It did not surprise her.

Truly the oppsite would have startled Julia much more.

So when two of his guards came for her, two days after Sir Galahad's departure to Cornwall, she did not flinch nor did surprise at their appearance seize her.

She simply put down the linens that she had been changing from Sir Galahad's sleeping place and accompanied the Knights when they gruffly told her that the Sheriff awaited her in his office.

And she could not help but feel like she was being escorted to her execution as she followed the knights. The thought of fleeing did not even cross her mind. Despite being quick on her feet due to her small frame and not having the extra weight of the heavy metal armour on her form, she knew she would not come far as there were guards positioned at every corner of the castle. And her flight would not go unnoticed and thus was doomed to failure.

So she followed the Knights. Like a lamb to the slaughter.

She was surprised upon entering the Sheriff's office to find both Sir Edward and his daughter present. No doubt had there been a Council of Nobles beforehand and Sir Edward and Lady Marian were yet to take their leave.

The kind smiles that father and daughter bestowed upon her at her entrance, did not ease the terror she felt within.

"Ah, Sir Galahad's little leper. Just who I had wanted to see," the Sheriff smiled- grimaced at her. She raised her eyes and kept her gaze level. He could do what he wanted to her but she was too proud to show the true extent of her fear at her situation. It felt like giving him an added victory beside the torment he could cause her.

"I believe I have grown tired of this cat-and-mouse-game. I just do not find you of enough circumstance to muster so much patience for you," the Sheriff sighed exasperatedly as if he had just completed a strenous chore. Then suddenly she felt one of the two guards beside her grabbing her.

The look of terror on Lady Marian's face surely echoed her own when she felt the cool steel of the knight's dagger being held at her throat.

"Now," the Sheriff looked at her harshly as he approached her- like a vulture, swooping down on his prey. "You will tell me who you are and just what you are doing here in Nottingham." And then he was standing just a hair's breadth away from her and she resited the urge to avert her eyes so she would not have to look into those demonic eyes of his.

"Sheriff Vasey, do you forget that she cannot speak..." she heard Sir Edward's voice sounded from beside them. The Sheriff's smile widened so that he revealed his yellowed teeth. He declared in booming voice that was almost too loud for their setting: "Now you see that's where you are mistaken, my dear Sir Edward. Not by your own fault of course. You are simply the victim of a most heinous deception."

He turned towards the nobles and declared: "The little bitch can bark." He then turned towards her and with narrowed eyes shining with sadistic joy at her misfortune, he whispered: "Weren't as careful and clever as you had thought yourself to be, were you little leper?"

As much as she could with the dagger still trained to her throat she looked towards Sir Edward and Lady Marian to see them looking with confusion at the Sheriff's claim at the Scene. "Now you will tell me who you are or I shall..."

And then she exclaimed, her voice slightly raspy at its lack of use in the presence of the current occupants of the pffice: "Despite his absence I am still under Sir Galahad's protection." And she saw Lady Marian flinch and her beautiful face fall in pain at discovering the Sheriff's accusations and Julia's betrayal of her to be true. 

She would worry about her friend's feelings at another time, she looked back towards the Sheriff and defyingly declared: "I am still under his protection. You may not hurt me or throw me in your dungeons, unless I have committed a true and witnessed felony." In response, the Sheriff looked like he wished to strike her for her insolence. But he soon caught himself and tampered down his fury. And his expression changed into a wide and sadistic smile.

And it served to make her only grow more alarmed.

He shook his head and stated languidly: "Perhaps not. Perhaps I cannot wring this White long neck as I have dreamt of doing. Perhaps I cannot throw you into the dungeons and have you rot there." He narrowed his eyes and hissed at her: "But I can lock you in Sir Galahad's chambers. Perhaps a few days without water neither bread shall loosen that defiant tongue of yours." 

And then he turned on his heels and waved dismissingly towards them. She felt the cold steel of the dagger removing itself from her skin only to be replaced by the other guard's tight grip on her other arm as they started to push her back to the healing chambers.

* * *

Not long after they had locked her in, she heard the keys being turned in their locks and the door slowly opening. But she did not rise from her seated position on the examination table.

She did not allow herself for a second to entertain the childish fancy that she was being let free.

The door opened and Lady Marian stepped in, looking cold and proud.

And Julia supposed that she should have expected her friend. She by now knew the woman well enough to know that there wasn't a chance she was being let go after what had been revealed about her.

Through cold, steel blue eyes the woman gazed down proudly upon her and asked the question that weighed heavily between them: "Why did you deceive me so?"

She had her arms clung around herself and now rubbing her forearms through the cloth of her undershirt she whispered: "I had no other choice."

Out of the Corner of her eyes, she saw Lady Marian flinch, as if the sound of her voice only deepened the betrayal caused by her.

"You had no other choice than to lie to me and make it seem as if you were worth of my charity?" the woman's voice had become louder, expressing the fury and hurt she felt at her friend's lies. At her accusations, Julia bristled. She knew she technically did not have the right to as it had been her who had wronged the woman greatly. But she had always been prideful and to be categorized as necessary of pity and charity made her indignant.

"I never asked for your charity," she declared while squaring her shoulders and meeting the woman's eyes for the first time since her arrival.

Lady Marian seemed to deflate slightly at her and her face fell from ist angry grimace into hurt. The woman shook her head and whispered: "I thought you to be my friend. How could you deceive me so?"

Julia longed to tell her that they were still friends. But she was sure that the noblewoman would not appreciate the sentiment at this moment.

Her friend turned away from her and breathed heavily judging by her heaving shoulders. Then after a certain amount of time in silence, Lady Marian stood straight again and without turning back to her, she whispered: "I promised Sir Galahad I would watch over you during his absence. But you will forgive me if I find myself unable to at the moment. I cannot bear to even look at you."

And with that she left the chamber.

And Julia continued looking after the woman who had extended her the kindness that would get her through her unexpected journey to the Middle Ages.

* * *

 She did not turn around at the sound of the door to the chambers- her prison cell- opening.

Her eyes kept looking up at the Grey, dreary sky- a sight she had come to associate with this damned place- as Sir Guy stepped into the healer's chamber. Julia did not need to turn around to know that it was the dark, ruthless henchman who had entered.

And she found herself without the passion to question how she knew this without turning to see him.

Silence descended upon them for a few seconds. And she supposed that it might have been unsettling as all of her encounters with the Sheriff's Master-Of-Arms Prior to this had been. Yet she felt numb inside and kept seat on the stone windowsill, studying the grey sky as if she had been blind up until now and this was the first thing she ever laid eyes upon. And now her eyes thirsted for the sight.

And she waited for him to break the silence. Surely he had come here with a purpose. She could feel his eyes trained upon her form, studying every move she made with the greatest devotion. 

But he would not speak.

Growing tired of the silence, she spoke: "You have come to take me to the Sheriff I suppose." She looked over her shoulders with cold empty eyes at the dark figure stood at the other end of the room. And perhaps she had grown delirious in the day she had spent locked in this room as she imagined him to flinch as her eyes lay themselves on his form. 

It could only be a hallucination. This was the fearless, ruthless Guy of Gisborne. A dark figure of her childhood. He would never flinch under her meaningless look. 

Still he held her look. With his Grey, icy eyes he held her eyes. And he did not answer her. Not with words anyway.

Patienceless she sighed: "Or perhaps you have come to take me to the gallows to make good on those threats you have given me since my arrival." She was astounded that she could still look into his eyes as she spat those venomous words at him. And it was as if their eyes had locked. And the bond could not be severed by mere earthly means.

She swallowed drily as she felt the tell-tale burning in her eyes and now, less venomously, she questioned: "How long have you known?"

And this was the first time since had had stepped into her prison that she saw any response from him. He took a shuddering breath and then with a voice that was so deep it caused a shiver to run up her spine he answered her finally: "Since Sir Galahad was with you in the dungeons."

She chuckled humourlessly at the revelation: "And I suppose the first thing you did at the discovery was to run to the Sheriff."

His eyes hardened and he spat in Response: "Deception and betrayal is the worst sin one can commit. You shall go to hell for exploiting the kindness and charity of those who gave them unjustly to you."

And though her heart lurched painfully in her chest at his cruel words, she laughed humourlessly in his face. Seeing his confusion at her reaction, she sobered and shaking her head she stated something she had complete conviction upon.

"I'm already there."

And then she turned away from him and resumed her study of the sky.

And she did not know how Long Sir Guy remained studying her still form.  


	9. Part IX

* * *

_"She was bitten on her birthday and now a face in the crowd she's not"- My Mistakes Were Made For You, The Last Shadow Puppets_

* * *

He found himself in front of her door yet again.

It had been three days since the Sheriff had put her under arrest and she had been locked in the Chambers that she had surely previously regarded as her saviour.

He could only shake his head in disbelief- _wonder, though he'd never admit it to himself-_ as he unlocked the door and stepped into the Chambers he had last entered three days ago.

He had always believed that Lady Marian was the most determined Person he'd met in his life. And it was that Determination and unshaking firmness in her belief that made her the most wondrous creature in Sir Guy's eyes. And it was his biggest desire that she would bestow some of her unshaking faith in him.

If he believed previously that Lady Marian was the most determined individual, then the Girl- _Julia, something within him whispered-_ was positively obstinate.

She had not left the Position that she had been in three days ago when he last saw her.

She had her thin arms wound around her legs and her Brown eyes were still searching for something in the skies.

From the momentary stiffening of her shoulders he knew that she had perceived his Arrival and knew it to be him- he would not question how she knew it was him or how every cell in his Body would seem hyperaware of her proximity- yet she would not acknowledge him.

He broke the heavy silence that habitated the room: "It would be much simpler if you simply gave in to the Sheriff's commands and explained yourself."

He heard her scoff humourlessly and looking over her shoulders at him, she questioned: "And then what? You take me straight to the dungeons where I shall await the next public execution?"

She stood up from her seated Position and with three sure and determined strides she stopped infront of him. And the top of her head missed his shoulders by an sure Inch or two, but she still looked up at him with the greatest Courage- and that unshaking belief- and she declared: "There is no other destiny for me here than death."

He looked into those Brown resignated eyes. He could not look away from them. Those dark pools lined with Long, dark lashes would not give him up.

"I shall die here no matter what. Either I give in and tell the Sheriff what he wants and he shall order my execution or I remain silent and die here of starvation and thirst- whichever Claims me first." She shook her head and he almost expected her to take a step back. His gloved Hand twitched in expectation, to hold her remaining close to him. Yet she did not step back.

Her face falling tragically she whispered: "The only mercy that I see her is to die true to myself and not give in to him." And for the first time she was not looking at him coldly or with that hint of condemnation in her eyes and she whispered: "And I beg of you do not take that mercy from me."

And Guy could swear that he felt his heart stop in his chest.

She looked away from him, over her shoulders and he resisted the urge to cry out at the loss.

"When I was a child, I used to sit at the window in my room at night and study the sky just as I do now," he heard her whisper in that voice of hers that he had first heard in the dark, damp dungeons where her soft and delicate tone sounded so out of place.

He kept silent as she continued: "I dreamt of this flying Boy rescuing me and taking me away from London." He continued listening on and he realised that this was the first Thing she had revealed of herself to him. And he would come to treasure this Moment. "I wished for him to take me away to this far away land with pirates and mermaids. A land where I would stay a child. And never grow up."

He unconsciously raised his Hand to his chest as her voice grew tight: "I promised I would never entertain such fanciful hopes ever again. But now I find myself unable not to do so." He saw her exhale shudderingly and she concluded: "But were such a wondrous Boy to even exist... He would never rescue me now."

He was loathe to admit it, but he was a Coward. He always had been since he was a Young Boy. He'd entertained the pesky Habit his entire life to run from troublesome things. When he'd been but a toddler and his mother had scolded him for letting the Family horse run off as Guy had failed to secure the mare properly. When his life had turned into complete and utter shambles when he'd only been the tender Age of fifteen and he'd turned his back from the villagers who wished him gone and his burned-down estate.

And now he turned away again from the Young woman who had resumed her hopeful study of the sky outside this chamber she could not escape.

But something deep in him- _in his frozen heart-_ warned him that he would not be able to escape her as easily as he had done previously.  

* * *

For the first time in her life, Marian was running after the dark henchman whom she had wished to avoid since the first moments of their acquaintance. 

"Sir Guy," she called to the dark figure a couple of Yards before her. At the Sound of her address, he stopped his heavy and purposeful stride. And for a second, Marian stopped to study his tall, imposing figure. And she noticed how hunched over his shoulders were. As if this man had to carry the weight of the world on his back.

She shook her head, escaping from her contemplation and approached him. As she drew closer to him, he turned towards her and raised his head to look down at her smaller Frame with the same icy blue eyes. And she supposed that if she did not despise his morals and everything he stood for with such a Passion, it would be entirely easy for her to fall in love with the dark, brooding man.

When she came to a stop before him- not too Close, lest she give him any false hope, she questioned: "How is she?"

She did not take notice to the tightening of his shoulders, as she could not fathom the reason for it. She knew that Sir Guy was Aware of which _she_ Marian meant. And accordingly after a few seconds of silence he responded: "Her Situation has not changed. She still remains under Arrest in the healer's chamber."

Marian exhaled- both out of relief that the younger woman had not suffered any harsher punishment from Vasey and out of worry and Resignation knowing that surely Vasey's Patience with the Girl was starting to run thin.

"I do not know why you take such concern in her regard considering she deceived you in the most cruel and self-serving manner," Sir Guy spat. Marian knew that deception and betrayal were the two things which Sir Guy could not abide by and she knew that anyone who dared deceive the dark henchman would suffer the severe consequences. But somehow his Statement missed the fire and the ruthless cruelty behind it. Almost like he was only accusing her half-heartedly.

"I know. And I would not lie and say that her deception did not cause me pain. But... I love her," Marian looked down and swallowed the lump in her throat. "It is odd is it not? I know only her Name and her face but I have come to love this Girl like my own sister." She smiled as she recalled their interactions, their shared moments. "Even if she spoke not a word in our entire acquaintance, there is this... kindness, this gentility in her eyes. And I do not believe I could stop loving her if I tried."

She gave a humourless chuckle and whispered: "Perhaps you and the Sheriff are right and she is a witch and has put me under her spell."

She looked up hopefully at her suitor and knowing the power she Held over him, she beseeched him: "May I see her?"

He was looking into her eyes for a few seconds and Marian started to already feel victorious knowing that to impress her, he would not reject but one wish from her. But she was left to feel disappointed when he shook his head and stated: "You know that no one is allowed to see individuals under Arrest, Marian. That includes you." And then he turned from her.

And this was the first time that Sir Guy had walked away from her.

* * *

She had moved away from the window and was now lying infront of the door with her face facing the narrow crack between the heavy wooden door and the cold, Stone floor she was laying on.

She'd grown weary of studying the skies and now that it had turned dark, it Held no more interest and value for her, other than reminding her of the darkness that reigned in the room she was confined to.

She had moved to regarding the narrow space which allowed her a view outside of this room, where the hallway was dimly illuminated by the glowing torches which lined the stony hallway.

And she supposed that she wished to see another living Soul. The Sound of footsteps and the shadow of an individual casually Walking past her prison would send her heart racing. Because it assured her that the world outside her chamber still existed. That it had not ended and that by some cruel trick of fate her and this deadly room were all that remained of the world. And so the shadows and te sounds were enough for her.

And that was all she could see. The crack was too narrow to allow her more eventhough she hungered after it.

She adjusted herself on the stony floor. Her shoulders were stating to ache from her positioning, but she dared not move an Inch, lest she was lost in the darkness of Sir Galahad's chamber once more.

She could hear footsteps- heavy and purposeful approaching- becoming louder and louder and unconsciously she scotted closer to the opening. Her breathing turned shallow and almost stopped completely once the shadow that accompanied the footsteps fell upon her. She Held her breath, she would hold it until the shadow had moved. But once the figure was Standing right in front of her door, the booming footsteps became silent and the shadow remained.

Someone had stopped in front of her door. Julia grasped at her chest and she moved closer to the opening until the tip of her nose touched the cool, uneven wooden door.

She could hear heavy, rhythmic breathing and she realised that whoever was behind the door could hear her as well.

And so she whispered- _she could not explain what had motivated her to speak, and had she known what would come of it, she would have been astounded at the monumentalness of this moment-_ "Hello?" And she could see the figure stagger at the Sound of her voice.

She could feel through the physical barrier which separated them, that the figure seemed to Panic and intended to depart and she cried out softly, her voice raspy from ist disuse: "No, please. Don't leave me." And the figure freezed and she could breathe normally again.

There was a soft 'thud' from the other side of the door as if the figure had come to rest on the door and she realised that despite not having any verbal Response, the figure's Actions told her that it would acquiesce her wish. And for the first time, since her imprisonment, Julia smiled softly.

"Marian is that you," she questioned softly, longing after her friend. There was no answer and she supposed that even if it was Marian, considering how they had lasted departed and how proud the older woman was, she would not answer Julia.

"Aright, whoever you are, I'm just happy you are here," she confessed softly. And she closed her eyes knowing that the Person opposite her would not depart so soon.


	10. Part X

_"And I suspect that now forever the shape, she came to escape, is forgot"- My Mistakes Were Made For You, The Last Shadow Puppets_

* * *

"Let's Play a Little game, Girl," he leered maliciously beside her. "I'm Feeling generous today and if you Play the game to my liking, I might be lenient towards you." She grimaced at his words, easily seeing through the lie they presented.

He moved away from her seated Position and rounded his desk. He stood behind the impressive mahogany Thing and leaning on his Hands, he explained: "'Tis a simple game of yes or no. I will ask you a question and you have to answer me with yes or no. Easy enough for your Little leper brain is it not." From her right, she could hear his right-Hand man sigh exasperatedly at the Sheriff's Antics. And she had to bow her head to prevent the other two occupants in the room to see her amusement.

"Are you originally from Nottingham," the Sheriff started with his first question. And Julia decided to Play along with his game, just for a bit. And to see the surprise on her two opponents' faces when she answered softly 'no' was rather rewarding: to catch them offguard like this.

"Are you from York?" the Sheriff continued and Julia wondered how Long is questions would remain as inoffensive as they had been. Her second answer of 'no' seemed to invigorate the Sheriff, who saw her answers as her plea of defeat and subjugation towards him.

He smiled, Baring his yellow and fouling teeth at her and she had to rule herself in not to Show her utter disgust. "Are you from London, then," she glanced for a short Moment towards the dark henchman, knowing fully well that she had revealed her origin towards him when they had last met and knowing that every bit of Information she told him would go back to the Sheriff.

She swallowed and whispered: "Yes." And her answer caused a gleeful smile to take a hold of the Sheriff's face and the grimace that his face pulled into, reminded Julia of a dying horse.

"Tell me then: Are you a spy from King Richard's court?" She wetted her lips. She knew full well of the king that Vasey talked: King Richard Lionheart. It had always been one of the things that had bothered her about Robin Hood's tales. She could not understand the valiant man's unwavering and undying allegiance toward this king, who had not even stepped foot on english soil. But then considering that the alternative was King John and that Robin had been a crusader, hailed by King Lionheart himself, Julia could understand Robin's loyalty towards him.

"No" The Sheriff hummed at her Response, perhaps wondering what had taken her so Long. And then he came very Close. So Close that she could not help but lean back further into her chair to get away from this she hated with all her heart: "Are you in allegiance with Robin Hood?" And she knew that all These questions had only truly been leading up to this. And how sweet a Feeling it was to withhold the only answer which truly interested the Sheriff, while having been compliant up until now.

As he noticed her lack of a Response and figured that she would not respond him, the smug Expression fell from his face and was replaced with one of utter hatred and Anger and she could not help the smug grin which twisted her lips at seeing his Anger.

He raised his Hand and she hoped that her flinch was barely recognizable as she recognised his intent to strike her. But nothing came. He stood stopped with his Hand in the air and he proceeded to study her face intently.

It was this which frightened Julia much more than having the Sheriff strike her.

His Hand slowly descended until it came to rest on her cheek and she was frozen with shock. And he whispered, almost tenderly: "No, I do not wish to mark this pretty a face." He grined sadistically down at her: "I wish for it to be at full Beauty for when I have you burning at the stake." Then he turned away from her and exclaimed to the right: "Gisborne take her back to her room!"

The return to her prison chamber passed in a blur. When she came back to herself, she was once again Standing in the middle of her work Chambers, lost and vulnerable like a Little Girl. A Feeling that was only strengthened by Sir Guy Standing tall and imposing with his arms crossed over his chest and studying her with a dispassionate Expression.

"You are too proud for your own good, Girl" he told her. And his matter-of-fact tone threw her off. She studied him for a second, trying to guage the Intention behind his words before she counter-asked him: "When did you tell the Sheriff that I could speak?" She did not know why she asked the question or why it seemed to matter to her. And she Chose not to question the reason it did. 

She did not expect him to answer. And for a few seconds he fulfilled her expectations.

But then suddenly his face broke out of his frozen, emotionless mask and with an unreadable Expression taking ist place, he declared: "I did not."     

She had not realised until now that unconsciously she had decided to remain as impassive and emotionless when Sir Guy of Gisborne was in her Company. She supposed that iz had to do with her pride, that she didn't wish for him to know a single Thing about her, that she did not wish to share anything of her with him. And she cursed the moments where she had failed in that unconscious promise to herself.

And she would later curse this one as well but the hidden implication behind his words caused her jaw to drop and for her to stagger on the spot. Because surely there had only been two People who had known the entire time that she was not mute and that had been him and...

She looked towards him and trying to dam in the Feelings of betrayal that were beginning to bubble within her, she whisperingly asked: "Why should I believe you?" His Expression was hard and cold when he answered: "I have no reason to deceive you."

And his answer was a blow to her gut.

She doubled, Holding her middle as if she had truly been stricken and a noise rose from her throat as if she was dying. She quickly raised her shaking Hand to her gaping mouth because she knew that it would be the only Thing Holding her ugly sobs in. Tears streamed down her face.

"Cease your crying," she was reminded of his presence in the room at his exclamation and she looked up through her blurred Vision to see him with his face turned away from her and a repulsed Expression on his Features as if her crying was the most offensive and revolting Thing he had come upon in a Long time.

And his disgust at her only curbed her crying, and she had to veritably press her Hand upon her lips to hold in her desperate sobs, not wishing to Anger him lest he retaliate against her.

He scoffed: "You cry as if you had been gravely injured. The man you are sweet on has divulged your Little secret to the Sheriff, so what. There are truly worse things in the world." And with These words she turned angry at him.

She swallowed the last of her sobs and composed herself before she approached him in three Long, purposeful strides. And with fire in her eyes and fire in her belly, she looked up at him and she whispered: "You speak as if you believe I have never encountered hardship nor pain." She scoffed and his Grey, icy eyes turned towards her.

Her fire stoked by the fact that she had his undivided Attention for those few seconds and by their proximity: "But that is what you believe isn't it? You think that just because I am young that I have never encountered pain." They were so Close, in the deepest recesses of her mind she took note that the tips of their noses were almost touching- _when had he started leaning towards her?_

"Well, let me assure you, Sir Guy, I have known pain and heartache just as much as you did." He mumbled, his eyes flickering between her eyes and her parted lips: "Well you sure act as if Sir Galahad's reveal of your secret was the most painful Thing that has occured to you. Had you known much pain, I would believe that you would find the Impact of that near unimportant."

She scoffed and stepped away from, because it was too much and it was too Close and she felt like she couldn't breathe. "Well then I veritably do hope you shall never experience the pain it is to be betrayed and abandoned by the one you love."

* * *

  _Her uncle closed the heavy tome with an ominous thud and through his spectacles he looked down at her seated and wide-eyed figure._

_He had just finished reading her the Arthurian tale of the Quest for the Holy Grail and she was still in awe at the description of Sir Galahad's glorious Ascension to the heavens with the syraphs._

_"So I take it, you are quite smitten with Sir Galahad," her uncle's voice breaks through twelve-year-old Julia's wonder and she blinks her eyes and she shakes her head. She Looks towards her smirking uncle and she answers his mischievious Expression with her own smile._

_"Yes, I know you quite well and he is just the sort of character that would easily snatch your affection," Julia squirmed slightly in her seat. Her uncle's words were light-hearted enough but something was hidden deep in his tone. Something that made her want to justify her affection towards the character:_

_"He is the most virtous and purest of them all. My worship of him only mirrors the glorifying descriptions by the author, uncle," she whispers._

_He cocks his head pensively to the side and mutters: "Yes, perhaps." And Julia can't help but feel that she had been quite premature and shallow in her liking._

_"Who is your favourite character then?" she almost challenges him, wishing to know this so that she herself may judge him like he had done her._

_Her uncle gives a loopsided smile before he states: "I have always harboured a predilection for Sir Lancelot, I find." Julia furrows her brow and impulsively she exclaims: "But he is an adulterer. He betrayed his best friend. And worse, their betrayal brought only pain and doom to all." She shakes her head and whispers: "I do not know how you could like such a selfish and destructive character."_

_"He was driven by love, my dear. And though I am not one to Champion unpremeditated following of desire when it is so destructive to others, you Forget he resurrected Queen Guinevre. I don't think either was able to resist the other after that. Rather I feel sorry for him that his love was so doomed from the beginning."_

_She looked down at her knees and then she felt her uncle's Hands pass through her hair- and she enjoyed those rare moments of physical affection she would receive from the man that was dearest to her._

_"I understand how Sir Galahad may be an easy character to love- the type of character that you fall in love almost instantly. But I have found that I prefer my affections to be Long-Lasting and steady. And Sir Galahad just doesn't seem like a worthy recipient of such love, so one-note he is."_

_And then her uncle uttered something she would never Forget in her life._

_"It is often those whose motives we question and whom we try to figure out the longest who end up the recipient's of the most steady and loyal love we have to give."_

* * *

Marian did not have many memories from her mother, the woman having passed away when Marian had barely passed her fifth summer.

Now at 20 years of Age, the only Thing that remained from the woman who had bestowed upon her life was impressions, like the crinkling of Skin when the Corners of her mouth lifted up into a smile. Or the way her Brown hair would catch the sun whenever she waited for Marian to return from Robin's estate when she was called to lunch.

But one Thing she could remember clearly was the advice her mother had given her the summer before she passed away.

She could clearly recall as the woman told her that her Beauty would be her greatest weapon.

And throughout her life, Marian had found that her Beauty had proved more useful and sharp than any sword Robin or Sir Guy could ever wield.

She was not above using her feminine wiles to get what she wanted- Sir Guy being the prime example of this and she only consoled herself in her Manipulation by using her Beauty to achieve honourable and pure Goals.

Just like she had used her Beauty and her charms on the guard to divulge where Julia was being kept captive. And when the man- starry-eyed due to receiving the Attention from a Lady of a much higher Station than his- revealed that Julia was imprisoned in the healer's Chambers, she'd inwardly rolled her eyes and believed that it had been quite a wasted effort.

Creative, the Sheriff of Nottingham was not.

She made her way to visit her friend for the first time since she was imprisoned. Marian had naturally been angry at the younger woman for her deception and had fel betrayed and hurt. But soon her Anger had evaporated and a deep sympathy had taken ist place as she considered the hardships the Girl must be facing, locked up and at the Mercy of the Sheriff.

She was just about the turn the Corner to the healer's Chambers, yet the sight she caught made her whirl back and with a thumping heart press herself against the wall.

Her eyes were wide and she truly disbelieved what she saw causing her to glance over her shoulders at the fantastical Scene.

And truly, Sir Guy... in all his black and rigid leather was sitting infront of the door of Julia's Holding room, his Long legs stretched out infront of him.

She whirled back around when she saw him reach out, tenderly towards the wooden door.

And Marian knew at that Moment that her sword had been bested by another.

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't my first Guy of Gisborne fic. The first story I ever wrote was about Guy and an OC in a Marian-less universe and after re-reading it (and cringing so bad) I realised that I could do better in my humble opinion. The OC was an utter Mary-Sue and Guy was really pathetic. I actually started a second Guy fic that I never finished and it was also time-travel. Consider this my rewrite of the story. The OC is very different from my original image. This story will ignore most of the occurences from the BBC series except vital background informations from character such as Guy or Robin.   
> I hope you guys enjoyed the first chapter and please tell me what you thought.  
> Love, Maria


End file.
